A Different Shade of Grey
by wings-yet-to-fly
Summary: When did it all go wrong, Jackson? A better question, why did it all go wrong? Has there been a time where everything was just right, or is that nonexistent for your kind?
1. Prologue

"Seven minutes past nine o'clock...whats keeping you, Leese?" Jackson murmured impatiently before gulping down the remains of his gray goose martini, nibbing at the olive as he kept the look out at the entrance doors. The dim lighting of the Mynt Lounge in Miami was the perfect place to reunite with his "beloved" accomplice, and while the slow, ambient music droned on in the background, Jackson allowed himself to muse.

_About a year has passed since our little incident on the red eye to Miami. No, I take that back...its been eleven months, fourteen days, and oh, I'm guessing twelve hours? To say that I am still pissed is an understatement, but then again what's the use of getting worked over the past? Forgive and forget is what the experts on life keep drilling us emotionally challenged folk. I don't even have to ask if Dr. Phil hasn't quoted that motherly proverb shit. Whatever the case, perhaps a night of civil conversation will do us both some good, that is if you're up for it Leese._

_Oh I bet you are._

_I bet your wanting to find out how I managed to escape a federal prison, leaving Keefe and his little political minions frantic and biting their nails, wondering what went wrong. I was more than amused when I watched national headlines glam up that pathetic attempt of a determined but fruitless search party. "Terrorist From Keefe Assassination Escapes Federal Prison." Oh please, how original can you get. It was comical though as I watched CNN the following night of my escape; shots of brave CIA agents talking in head sets, that typical air of false confidence that gives the general public a sense of security. Oh no...I was out all right, and somewhat proud once I heard security on all general hotels had gone up._

_While I was safely tucked away from the clutches of our government, I could only imagine your face once Keefe jarred in the bad news. I hope you clung on to daddy dear and bought some mace, because I assure you that on several occasions I felt like paying you an old visit to wrap up our unfinished business._

_But I had a little more dignity and patience than that. Besides, I had a few things to take care of first._

_ Believe me, it wasn't what you call 'simple', being able to escape prison, but fortunately I had a few old friends lodged in the government system who were able to squeeze me out of the prison's perimeter. But, like most things in life, it wasn't free and I had to slice out a big chunk out of my life's earnings to give to these contacts, and soon I was able to 'disappear', vanish from the constraints of Keefe and his government goons._

_Thus, I loitered around in a country whose name I doubt you could pronounce, took a few weeks off to gloat and tend to my wounded ego and career, both of which are still undeniably scarred, and I have yet to find myself a respectable position in the field. Thanks to you, I'm now hated by my own kind, reduced to a pariah who lives off his deteriorating savings and whose reputation is permanently crippled. There is a whole social caste system in the underground world that I am acquainted with, and I went from enjoying nobility to scooping shit. Luckily, another company was willing to take me in and give me limited protection, but I am regarded as a salvaged good, a cripple who got bashed in by his last job. Petty, pathetic jobs that could be handled by mere thugs are now handed down to me, and I can no longer say I am a part of dignified, sophisticated organized crime. _

_...and whose fault is that? Even better, when did it all screw up?_

_Pity. Thats when it all crumbled Leese, when the discover of your 'incident' seemed to dawn in, finally giving everything a valid explanation. The realization that some piece of worthless shit had scarred you mind and body struck a chord within me, namely sympathy. That's something I don't feel often Leese...in fact your the first mark that, for the briefest moment, I felt almost sorry for. Even the usual self-proverb that it wasn't personal in my part didn't quite justify it all. _

_Then, you stabbed me. _

_With hell to pity after that little action._

_Honestly Leese, I was bored out of my mind watching you for those painful eight weeks, bored and alarmingly puzzled. Even with all those hours of assessing, note taking, and grueling examinations, I couldn't find an exact conclusion, nor a satisfying thesis on your dissociative behavior. Hell, it was like a flash back to my psychology course in college._

_ As days passed, I realized that I was beginning to actually grow somewhat concerned for your well being. Here you are, an attractive, successful young business woman locking herself to the confides of her own apartment, and for what? To let the world pass you by? How long could you have stayed in the quarters of your living room couch, huddled with a plate of cold eggs, murmuring in unison with Audrey Hepburn in that oh-so-classic movie Sabrina? Hell, you watched that film too many times, right to the point where even I practically memorized some quotes. "I might as well be reaching for the moon..." was one quote I remember you seemed to chant religiously. _

_You could have been one of those women in those movies, aspiring their dreams and notching out a happy ending...but instead you seemed to prefer rotting in your apartment, channel surfing when your insomnia strikes._

_ Something was very wrong, and once I saw that scar in the lavatory, all chaos broke out and I became desperate for an answer. No, I was determined get that answer, even if I had to squeeze the life out of you._

_But you mocked me. You lied. And I almost did squeeze the life out of you._

_It seemed that every time I tried to be reasonable or humane, you did everything in your will to go against me. Soapy messages, the message in the book, hell, I wouldn't be surprised if you attempted to blink morse code to the stewardess. And I had interfered and kept the upper hand successfully; I hammered in each crooked nail until the very end. But yet I slipped up, and now I live with a very dented and bruised ego, all thanks you and your impromptu weaponry._

_Perhaps what really stripped me of my pride was simply lying there sprawled in your father's house. At least my associate had some dignity; he was dead and wasn't lying there with two bullet holes in his chest, wheezing and gurgling on his own blood. Then the sickening shimmer of both triumph and reluctant pity that your eyes directed towards me as I vaguely heard the sirens of the ambulance come closer. If I had had the strength I would have stabbed you, dad or no dad, but I was helpless, weak, unable to even get on my own knees. All I could do was roll my eyes, swallow the agonizing lump of anger in my throat, and plot out what was to come._

_So here I am. I plotted well enough to get back into American soil uncharted, and even more secure with myself that I contacted you from an phone whose number cannot be traced. I have yet to ask your opinion on the sound of my voice; I was more than happy after recovery to find that my vocals didn't suffer any permanent damage. We had no introduction, just a simple address and time and the phone clicked. I am sure you probably ran to your bathroom and coughed up whatever dinner you had, then laid in your sofa, crying and deciphering what to do._

_ Still, even if you'll admit it or not, you want to come see me. Whatever reasons are irrelevant, but you don't want that figure lying in your dad's entryway to vanish forever. Thus, I am sure with that newfound female heroine act, you'll swallow your fears, and venture on a secret pilgrimage to face me, yes me, your arch nemesis. I expect you will be dolled up more than usual, and you'll stride in here with false petty confidence, your makeup a bit bolder than usual. Hell knows what will be in that small purse you'll have...mace and pepper spray seems mandatory, but with that paranoia we both know you have, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a gun or a taser in there. Even a grenade._

_How predictable you are Leese, even after the time we spent away from each other. I'd be disappointed if you didn't wear stilettos._

"Anything else you need sir?" The sun-kissed bartender eyed him curiously, a sheen of clear interest evident in her fake blue contacts. Jackson grinned, flashing a content smile as he immediately became aware of the world around him.

"Yeah, another grey goose martini would be great."

The woman winked, letting her fingers trail slowly away from the table and resumed to the bar to tend to his drink. Jackson's attention returned to the doorway, waiting for that petite, doe-like figure to come in.

After two minutes drained by, she finally arrived. Immediately Jackson felt a wave of mixed emotions pulsate through him, but he fought them off, determined to retain his cool composure. Conservative white blouse, an even more conservative tweed skirt, she seemed to empower the essence of professionalism, and went against everything Jackson had hoped she would do.

"Why Leese? Why do you always seem to oppose me?" He muttered lowly, examining her frantic figure scanning the crowd, her eyes alarmed and frantic. She kept posted at the entrance of the lounge, biting her bottom lip as her fingers nervously dug into her white Chanel clutch.

"Why Leese, did you get a raise? Congrats." Jackson said dryly. No doubt she did receive some benefits after the Keefe incident.

She finally took one step forwards, her eyes going down the bar until finally she caught sight of him. They widened slightly, her fingers stopped fumbling with her clutch, and her mouth subtly parted. Jackson simply stared back, letting a false smile tug the corners of his lips. Her whole body was stiff, but her eyes were brazen and bold, a bit angered by the casual grin he was flaunting. She murmured two words, then suddenly spun around and stalked out the door, leaving Jackson both surprised and immediately enraged. He got up by impulse to pursue her, but stopped dead in his tracks as the legendary skirmish in her father's house flashed by. Cursing, he plopped down onto the stool, hearing the clank of a martini glass settle in front of him as the bartender smirked at him.

"Girl trouble?" She said, obviously referring to Lisa's swift and unexpected exit.

"Like you wouldn't believe," He said in a light-hearted tone. "But don't get me wrong, she'll be back."

"Are you sure?" She questioned, her over-tweezed eyebrow raised knowingly.

Jackson nodded, examining his martini, watching the olive tumble to the bottom as he released it from its toothpick. "Very sure."

The finality in his tone made the bartender shrug, and as she made her way to serve a group of after-work socials, Jackson ran his hands through his hair and sighed. He had read what she had murmured under her breathe, and it irritated him to no end.

**Go away...**

_No I won't go away Leese...not now. Not when your the key to my promotion._


	2. Just Human

So, my first shot at Fanfiction, and some luvin would be greatly appreciated. (Cough cough: Reviews) If you want a quick JL then this is not for you, and although a few sentiments may pop in every now and then, it will be VERY gradual and subtle. The focus is on their circumstances and the psychology both play, and I hope you enjoy!

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Lisa Reisert was doing, by any outsider's viewpoint, better than ever. The after effect of the Keefe incident livened up her once taciturn life; the media simply couldn't get enough of this "_pretty hotel manager who thwarted off a terrorist twenty-thousand feet above ground_". The first few days Keefe had called her and advised to stay at home, but even with her curtains tightly shut and door locked, she could hear the impatient footsteps and jabber of reporters and camera men alike, circling her condo like a hungry pack of wolves, waiting to devour any scrap of information pertaining to the red eye. She had left once on that miserable week to visit her dad, and as soon as she opened the door, a crowd of anxious reporters hounded her, shooting her with brash questions about the flight.

_"Miss Reisert, how do you feel about what happened?"_

_"Did you think you would make it out alive?"_

_"Do you think your life is still in danger?"_

_"What are your plans for the future after going through all this?"_

She merely shook her head with an exhausted smile, and slowly made her way to her car and watched the mob of media folk fade away in her rear view mirror.

Then the letters came in. CNN, Good Morning America, even Oprah wanted to have a personal, "in-touch" interview with the heroine who saved the lives of the now infamous political family. She gave a sincere, almost apologetic letter to each eager news station and television show, explaining that what had happened was not yet up for discussion until post-investigation. (But she was undeniably excited about receiving a letter from Oprah.) Some even suggested that she write a book about it, but she humbly declined, feeling that what had happened had happened and she didn't intend to make a show of it for the publics' sake. Finally, like she predicted, the media calmed down a bit, leaving her completely alone after a month had passed.

Keefe was more than appreciative of Lisa's bravery. He insisted that she got a promotion, and now Lisa spent her days on the fourth floor of the Lux Atlantic, arranging accommodations specifically for the rich and famous guests quartering in presidential suites. She also helped plan out events in the newly built Lux Atlantic Ballroom, and she thoroughly enjoyed consulting and mapping out wedding ceremonies and company parties. Her salary literally sky rocketed, and with the extra money she had flying around, she decided to treat herself to some name brand goods that would have once taken a huge bite from her wallet.

Cynthia was still nestled at the front lobby; she was offered a promotion but declined it because she felt that it was hard enough being a receptionist; it would only stress her out more if she was jumped to a manager on such short notice. Since Cynthia still worked primarily night shifts, Lisa would often buy her a coffee before she made her way home. In time, both became considerably close friends.

"You sure he won't be coming back? You think anyone will be after you?" Cynthia had once asked, sipping her cappuccino quietly as Lisa mused the question.

"Well, I don't know. Its very possible. Keefe said that whenever I feel threatened or contacted by someone suspicious, he had agents available 24/7 to come and investigate the situation. But I don't want to think about it Cynthia, it has been awhile since the whole incident. If he wanted to do something, he could have done it awhile ago. Besides, what can I do? I can't let myself get too scared or paranoid...we will just have to wait and see."

Cynthia merely nodded, taking a small bite out of her brownie as she considered her words. "You're brave Lisa. Really."

Lisa only smiled weakly in reply.

Her dad once pressed the issue of therapy, but Lisa shook her head, insisting that contrary to popular belief, she was fine. The near death experience had in some bizarre way made her optimistic, made her realize the importance of being alive and how truly divine and amazing it could be, even amongst all the circumstances that she faced. She could not, and would not, let herself become stagnated in a pool of fear and sorrow, and instead sought out solace by those that cared about her. One night, out of sheer impulse, she went to her office cabinet and brushed out an old personal phone book that had been covered by a thin layer of dust. Then, sighing in relief, she grabbed her telephone and started dialing away.

Months later, Lisa found herself around a comfortable nook of old friends from college. Kathy, once the flirtatious party girl that she had shared a dorm room with, now became the poster image of the happily married housewife, caring for a pair of twin toddlers, living just south of Miami in a suburban haven.

Michael, Lisa's ex-boyfriend/ friend, had become successful in his job as a financial adviser, but struck bad luck in marriage and had recently gone through a nasty divorce. Before Lisa contacted him, he had spent his nights at local bars, drowning himself in vodka and spirits, mourning over his wife who, with even more bad luck, was his co-worker that was in the cubicle parallel to him. After a period of dismal conversations and alcohol, him and Lisa spent a majority of their weekends together, talking about the past and exchanging cooking recipes which, Michael admits, made his entire week. Cynthia often joined the group, and by the way the two interacted, Lisa had suspicions that Cynthia and Michael could eventually end up dating.

So, life went on. Just like Henrietta had said, keep looking forwards. Lisa was also sleeping well; she paid a visit to a doctor to cure her relentless insomnia, and now slept peacefully with the help of a nightly dose of Lunesta. Thanks to the medication for her now non-existent insomnia, her healthy sleeping pattern seemed to make her whole persona shine, physically and emotionally. She was even more pleased to find that the slight bags under her eyes had vanished. Slowly, Lisa felt the weight of both the rape and the red eye incident fade away, numbed by the anticipation of humorous banter, movie nights, and stories of college over cosmopolitans.

But what surprised her the most was the lack of fear or anxiety that she expected to feel after the flight. Indeed, if she did meet Jackson again she would certainly be terrified, but after seeing him lie beaten and defeated in the floor of her father's house, she realized that he wasn't so different from herself: he was human and could be taken out. Part of her wanted to grab her hockey stick and keep hitting away, but as she stared intently at his wheezing form, she saw herself. She saw herself against the parking lot of a grocery store, with the shadow of a man standing victoriously in front of her, gloating in his perverse superiority.

_He's just human. _

Sighing, she simply shook her head and turned around. What was done is done, and even though in the bottom of her heart she knew that it may not be over, that he may come back to "talk again", she couldn't bring herself to finish him off. Let that be handled by the authorities. Even with his eventual escape, Lisa comforted herself, thinking that if he was alive, he'd be too busy with other matters than to merely seek out revenge or pay back. She eventually concluded that he was nothing but false promises.

_"We'll talk again..."_

Then, he called. At first she thought the phone call was a cruel joke; it had been the all too typical Friday night and the call had caught her completely off guard. Doubts rushed through her head at first, but what convinced her was that voice, that cold, deep voice that articulated each word with a dark and taunting tenor. How could she forget the voice of someone who tried to kill her and her father? He had called while Michael and Kathy were over making lasagna, and had left a brief and curt message.

"Mynt Lounge. Nine O'clock. Be there."

Lisa froze, letting the phone slide from her grasp and crash onto the floor, startling both Kathy and Michael. Lisa threw her hand to her mouth, gagging as she rushed into the bathroom and keeled over the sink, dry heaving. Michael rushed in and brushed back her hair, lightly patting her back while shouting for Kathy to bring some water. After an agonizing minute, Lisa finally calmed down, taking the glass of cool water thankfully as she sipped it slowly, feeling her stomach protest to the intended comfort. Michael and Kathy kept asking what happened, but Lisa hushed them.

No one knew about Jackson; only Keefe, Dad, and a few investigators knew the gory details of the flight. Michael had once asked, but Lisa shook her head, exclaiming that she wanted to keep it a private matter. She did however say that it made her realize the value of life, and that from now on she was going to stop seeking refuge solo and instead hold on to the people she cares about most. Michael toasted her to that, and never asked any more questions.

Even with the sleeping pills, Lisa could not fall asleep that night. The last time she had a pang of fear was a few months back , when she woke up one morning to find his face soaked in every newscast around, shocked to find that he escaped federal prison. Her father came over that day and exhorted her to buy a weapon, but Lisa assured him that on her own time, she would buy some mace or perhaps a gun, if situations came to that. Her father had called zealously that month, but as weeks rolled by with no action, things settled fast and once more Lisa and her father relaxed.

But alas, it must have been a long calm before an intense storm.

She decided not to tell anyone about their meeting at the Mynt Lounge. The back of her mind warned her to tell Keefe, but something in her, whatever it was, wanted to tackle the matter alone. It was a public setting thankfully, and she herself had visited the lounge on several occasions with Cynthia and a few co-workers. Why he chose that place in particular remained a mystery, but she suspected he was the type who, on his night off, would loiter around a trendy bar and, with his looks, never came home empty handed.

"Bastard..." She mumbled to herself as she dug through her closet, unable to decide what to wear. What does one wear when you meet your tormentor/intended murderer? In the end, she just chose something simple and elegant, realizing that she was wasting her time worrying about his opinion on her fashion sense: to hell with him.

Driving there had been agonizing. The roads were still a bit slick from the previous day of intense rainfall, and even with the lack of traffic she had expected, the length of the drive seemed far too long. Her fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel at every stop light, and often she checked her mirrors, hoping she wouldn't find a luxury car suspiciously trailing behind her.

Finally, she was there. The neon sign seemed a shade too bright, given the circumstance. She paused before opening the door, eyes closed and took in a deep, shaky breath. This was it, this was her little secret trip to see the devil himself, and she was stupid enough to do it all alone, without anyone's knowledge. Asking why would prove pointless: she didn't know herself. A small trickle of fear seeped in, but she forced herself to brush it aside.

_Just human. Just human. Just human..._

She opened the door. Immediately the aroma of alcohol and cigarettes filtered her senses, and the dim lighting of the area made it hard for her to see. She willed her legs to move, but to no avail; she seemed lodged in place, her legs protesting to move. Finally, after much effort, she was able to propel her left foot forwards, and she was about to keep moving until her eyes met a pair of familiar cerulean orbs.

Lisa slightly gasped. There he was, just as sharp and ghostly as she had imagined he would be. His face features were heavily shadowed by the scarce amount of light, highlighting his unnaturally high cheek bones that made him seem almost demon-like. He grinned, but his eyes glittered in dark conspiracy, causing Lisa's stomach to squirm uncomfortably. Her foot still refused to move forwards, and it suddenly dawned upon her that it was a huge mistake coming here alone to meet him. The glint in his eye was enough proof.

**RUN.**

Instincts quickly took action, and Lisa willed herself to speak, to say in the shortest version possible of what she wanted for him to do.

"Go away..." Her voice was inaudible, but by the way his eyes sharpened in rage, she knew that her words had struck home. Then, as if they had a mind of their own, her feet led her out the door swiftly, and she found herself sprinting towards her Toyota Corolla. She lodged her key harshly to open the front door, and in seconds drove off, hoping nobody could hear the wild screech of her tires.

"Idiot!" She yelled at herself, pushing the acceleration pedal harshly, causing her car to slightly buck. The ride home was a fast one, embellished with curses and quick glances to see if anybody was following her. Then, after the intense, near-wreck drive back, she slowly parked her car in front of her condo and leaned her head onto the steering wheel, and cried for the first time in months.

_Just human. He's just human. He's human..._

(Yep. He's just human. A mighty fine one if I add. Quick update, eh? LEAVE SOME LOVIN! )


	3. Plan B

So I think these three chapter finally builds the foundation of the two...I hope it isn't too lengthy, but always healthy to have a decent background check before the show gets started. A lot of dialogue guaranteed in the next Chapter, but it won't be as quick as an update as the first two: these files had been tucked away in my lap top for months, and it was only until now did I decide to put them public.

Remember, reviews encourage thy work!

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"So she fled..." The voice on the other line of Jackson's cell phone taunted, followed by a slight snicker. Jackson had just unceremoniously arrived at his safe house, throwing his keys carelessly onto the kitchen counter and more or less threw off his shoes as he gritted his teeth.

"Yeah. It's like she saw a fucking ghost. I'd find it hilarious, if it weren't for the fact that she's become a major vitality for advancing my career. Don't worry, she'll come around."

"Oh, I'm not so worried Jackson. Not my problem, you see. I only worry if you are making good use of what I have just given you; it is not everyday that I let someone rent out a safe house for only two-hundred dollars a night."

Jackson's face turned sour. Once upon a time, he could have snapped back and threatened the person on the other line with good cause. Now, this bastard was his manager.

"I shouldn't be in Miami too long. My deadline is next Thursday, right? So don't give me too much bull about my time limit: I already am aware of it."

The voice on the other line chuckled. "Just making sure you remember."

"I remember," Jackson said with a little more venom than he intended to spill. He hated letting this guy know that he annoyed the hell out of him. "Don't act like I am a rookie here, I've done more intense operations than this one, in fact, I've done more operations than you. Right now you are a complete waste of my time and for once, I'll call YOU once I get the ball rolling. Until then, let me handle the situation. Do what you do best: sit on your ass and watch everyone else take care of things."

"Careful Rippner, that's not the way to speak to your manager." The voice said smugly, reveling as his opponent stayed silent on the other end, fuming.

Jackson wanted nothing more than to slam the phone against the wall, but could only tighten his vehement grip on it while clenching his jaw harshly. "Our boss doesn't give a shit about the relationships of his co-workers, he just wants the job done. That's why you never got promoted; you're nothing but talk and no guarantees."

To Jackson's immense pleasure, the line clicked. Slamming his cell phone onto the kitchen counter, he threw his head back and cursed. The prick on the other line was Garrett, a young manager like he had once been who never quite excelled in his career. Unlike Jackson, Garrett was careless and incompetent with details; the only reason he was even involved in the business was deep family ties, and if it weren't for his father and uncles, then he was as good as dead. Ever since Garrett heard the news that the renown prodigy Jackson Rippner was working underneath _his_ authority, he was more than ecstatic. He called often, making sure to throw in as many witty and callous remarks as humanly possible. At first, Jackson dealt well with his unyielding insults, in fact he had even enjoyed throwing the ball back into Garrett's face with a few slick comments of his own. But right now he had a deadline to reach and wasn't quite in the mood for quarreling with the village idiot.

_Oh well. Whatever. _

Groaning, he sank onto the living room couch, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt his anger slowly dissipate. No, this wasn't about Garrett, it was about his anxiously awaited promotion. All he needed was Lisa to listen, and after that then it would be a walk in the park to get her to comply. He was ready for her to scream at him, lash out in the very possible anger that she had bottled up after the flight. In fact, that's what he dealt best with: the scratching, the yelling, the sobbing, the ineffective punches... hell, he was ready to embrace it all if it can just get her to stand still.

But she ran. She fled the scene before he could even take any action.

_...damn._

Pursing his lips in annoyance, he examined the safe house that Garrett had oh so generously given him. It was small, only containing the essentials of living: couch, television, a coffee table, book stand, kitchenette and bathroom. He remembered days where he spent his nights on crimson red sheets at a lavish five star hotel in Moscow, or when he rented a contemporary beach house during the eight weeks prior to the red eye incident. Now here he was. The highlight of the safe house was that it had satellite television and came with a complimentary bottle of Skyy Vodka. Whoopee.

_Oh well. Won't stay here long anyway._

He gingerly sprawled the length of the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, replaying the Mynt Lounge scene in his head. Her hair was a shade lighter than he had remembered, and had been layered and straightened to the length of her shoulder blades. From the information he had gathered up a few weeks earlier, she seemed to be doing relatively wonderful in her life. Promotion, friends, family, a resurrected social life. To say that it didn't piss him off was a complete lie.

He still couldn't forgive the fact that she ruined his life by the simple jab of a pen, and when he returned to Miami he was hoping to see a shriveled, anti-social workaholic rotting away from the misfortunes of her life inside her condo. He wanted to see tubs of Häagen-Daz scattered throughout her living room, followed by a stack of B-rated movies to accompany her lonely, fright-filled nights. He wanted fear, he wanted terrified, he wanted her to realize that he wasn't going to simply leave their business unfinished. Instead, he found her popping quarters at an arcade and singing karaoke at a local bar, with a group full of friends cheering her on as she sang _"_Love Shack" by The B-52's.

_Yes. While I had spent half the year overseas and the rest in remote locations through out the U.S, pissing and moaning about the failures of my life, you were trying to win a plush green teddy bear with one of those coin-chomping crane machines. Go figure._

Still, luck had been kind enough to not kill him yet. The company that recently hired him wasn't near as demanding or high-paying as his last; this company kept a majority of its profit overseas and looked mostly to the interests of corrupt political figureheads and international business leaders. Jackson was more than surprised to find that Keefe himself once held ties to one of his superiors years back. His current company did not stand for any political zealots or radical cause; it merely catered to those willing to pay a good price, making it a relatively safe, neutral entity of the underground world. A large ratio of the workforce were former CIA or FBI agents, so ties directly to the government were ample.

His former reputation as a miracle assassination manager enabled him to get a humble position partaking in small operations on the east coast, giving him time to prove that he still held the premium performance and skill that had given him his former prestige. He gained the approval of most of his superiors quickly, and slowly Jackson felt the rust of failure fade away, replenished as his confidence and assertive perseverance returned. Now he was only one operation away from getting a juicy promotion, one that could possibly heal his scarred résumé.

Scarred reputation. Scarred ego. Scarred _life_.

His fingers deftly touched the small, bulbous scar on his throat, a relic of his untimely demise that Lisa had graciously given him. He remembered when it was still fresh from bandages, when he had laid enraged eyes upon it for the first time. Even to this day he could feel his blood boil at the memory, of large desperate eyes reflecting the sun rays of that particular summer morning. There had been restless nights where Jackson indulged in the thoughts of revenge and violent retribution, but determination and hope fueled him to shake it off and keep the focus on his job.

The only problem is that Lisa was a key component for completing the job.

What Lisa had trouble seeing is that because of her job, she was a valuable tool for conspirators of his line of work to manipulate. While being briefed, Jackson was notified that because of her promotion, she now had access to the detailed schedules of some of his company's clients...and marks. Funny how it all worked out; Keefe basically had super-glued a target sign to her head while he was paving her promotion, thinking it was all for her benefit and well-being. Sure, she got to flash around a Prada wallet and buy a pair of breathtaking Manolo shoes, but what value were they worth if she gets kidnapped? Even worse, killed.

Although his former company had no intention of eliminating Lisa initially after the big disaster, the promotion itself got their attention once more and smacked a fair priced bounty on her head. Before, Lisa had a small but respectable amount of acquaintances with a few politicians and business men, but now her little job upgrade made her work exclusively for higher society, causing her to have vital information that both his former company and his current would have wanted. It was no myth: his old company now had good reason to pay Lisa a little visit, and if she didn't comply with their demands well...there goes a head full of crucial data. Literally.

He heard his cell phone vibrate harshly against the kitchen counter, and with great reluctance, Jackson got up to receive it, praying that it wouldn't be Garrett up for round two of the game that never ended. Fortunately, it was his boss.

Jackson huffed amusingly and picked it up. "I figure Garrett told you a highly exaggerated and elaborate version of what had happened with Reisert, right?" He didn't even have to wonder; Jackson knew.

The man chuckled lowly. "Yes, I know better than to take that fool's words seriously, but the general plot line is intact: she ran off."

Jackson sighed. "Yeah. Up and left. I didn't want to start a public scene so I stayed in place."

"Smart move. So what's plan B?"

Jackson bit his lip softly, pacing the living room as he ran his hair through his unkempt hair. "Plan B Plan B Plan B...approach her again in a more private setting, threaten her if she doesn't comply, use minimal physical force, bring sedatives if all hell breaks lose and ta-da: you got your key."

The man contemplated this for a minute, and hummed an approved note. "When do you expect to strike?"

"Not too soon. It's Tuesday, so lets give her the rest of the week off to cool down, because she'll need it for whats coming ahead. I've bugged her phone line, so I'll find out what her schedule is for this weekend. If she carries on with her weekend like planned, I'll know what to do."

"Are you sure?"

Jackson's azure eyes cringed in annoyance. He had heard that question one too many times after his great disaster; no wonder Lisa got pissed off every time her father asked that.

"Yes, positive. The deadline is next Thursday, so we have time."

The blunt assurance Jackson gave resulted in a satisfied grunt from the boss. "I hope so. Key a low profile around Miami, I'd hate to bail you out if an agent recognizes and catches sight of you."

"Understood," was Jackson's final word before the man hung up. Flicking the phone back onto the counter, Jackson felt that habitual vexation bubble within. Lisa.

_If she doesn't just listen then I might lose my fucking mind..._

_...hell, what am I saying, I'll MAKE make her listen._


	4. Hugo Boss

SORRY GUYS! Still new to everything, and I thought I had loaded Chapter 4...but I didn't. Alas, here it is, review if you love or hate it.

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"Okay Lisa...and smile!" A bright flash erupted from Cynthia's digital camera, capturing the image of Kathy, Michael, and Lisa arm in arm, behind the backdrop of a large rustic water fountain with metallic dolphins. Seconds later the group huddled around the camera, examining the picture.

It was Friday evening, and the group had decided to take a trip to Coral Square, a recently remodeled shopping complex along the ocean, complete with boardwalk, countless restaurants, and mini theme park. The weather was beyond humid, making Lisa's blue cotton shirt cling onto her damp skin, a sheen of sweat gleaming across her forehead and neck.

Originally, Lisa had not wanted to come. The return of Jackson had shaken her up, and more than anything she simply wanted to spend the weekend at her father's house, where she knew she could feel relatively safe. Still, the group had beckoned her to come, insisting that if she really was going through some internal issue, it wouldn't be healthy loafing alone at home, risking the chance to return to her once agoraphobic habit. Seeing the truth in this, Lisa decided to go with the flow and hope that their comical banter and companionship would ease her worries, and reinforce her with some needed comfort.

Besides, it's not what happens to you, but how you react to it, right?

A voice in the back of her head still urged her to call Keefe, but she realized that by not contacting the authorities, she was proving a personal point to Jackson that she was not going to let herself be too intimidated. Call it stupid pride, but this was her own little personal battle with her tormentor; if he pressed the button further, she wouldn't hesitate to call.

Besides, she was over that phase of her life. She had once heard that the bravest people who go to battle are the ones that are the most frightened and go anyway. Perhaps that's how she felt in this case.

--------------------

Jackson's eyes narrowed. He was positioned alongside an outdoor Mexican cafe, with green pepper and Christmas lights flashing around him as he sipped his black coffee nonchalantly. Tonight, he was playing the part as an anonymous civilian: black shirt, casual jeans, and slightly tinted glasses to top it all off. He immediately regretted his shirt though; it was ungodly hot and it wasn't exactly keeping him cool. He peered down towards his Rolex, checking the time silently.

_7:58...and I'm still roasting._

He had been watching Lisa loiter with her friends for the past hour with unexpected indifference, merely waiting for the proper time to make his move. The usual resentment that Jackson contained had been replaced with predatory coolness, watching his mark frolic amongst the bright colors of festive balloons and jubilant groups of smiling faces.

In fact, he seemed that his presence completely contrasted everything around him: the jeers of children on the ferris wheel, groups of teenagers babbling slang and texting uncontrollably on their sticker-embellished cell phones, families hand in hand, a young couple on their first date, too shy to make constant eye contact . The naivety and carelessness of every day society hadn't hit him in a long time, and he realized that it had become another realm to him, another dimension. He couldn't, and never would, adjust to such a life style.

Yet here she was. She had tip-toed across the surface of his world, and was able to come back, almost untouched.

_Almost._

The vibration of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and he retrieved it, seeing the name entry "Stupid Bastard" appear on the screen.

_Garrett._

Rolling his eyes, he answered it hesitantly. "Anything important to tell me?"

Garrett guffawed. "I suggest you have some fun and take a ride in the merry-go-round."

Jackson's nostrils flared in contempt. "I suggest you shut up and let me get back to work."

"Ouch Rippner. Just giving info from the boss: apparently there is an agent from your former company around the area. The details aren't specific, but from what I've heard it's an old comrade of yours, some guy who worked in your cell. Boss wants you to divert the bastard and resume all plans."

_Great. Just great._

After a heavily exhausted paused, Jackson continued. "Any knowledge as to why he was sent?"

"No, but it's more than obvious. Your old buddies aren't patient people."

_No shit._ "Okay, I'll take care of it. Tell the boss I'll neutralize him. Thanks for being useful for once."

Before Garrett could reel in another comment, Jackson hung up, shoving his compact Nokia into his pocket in fury. Just perfect, another one of his old employee was sharking Lisa the same night he was. Now he had two things to scratch off in his mental check list, and the first one was going to be a tad harder. Hopefully, the agent lurking around hadn't spotted Jackson first, and if not, well...he shouldn't be too terribly far from Lisa, now should he?

--------------------------------------------

"Jesus Christ, look at the love handles on that!" Kathy pointed to herself on the screen as they walked down the boardwalk, welcoming the gushes of the salty sea breeze.

Michael patted her head. "After having kids, there are a lot worst things that can happen. I think you look great."

Kathy grunted dismally. "Still, I'll miss those days when I could go out to the beach in public, not worrying about stretch marks or love handles. Look at Cynthia here: she's all skin and bones!"

Cynthia's eyes grew large in shock. "Gee, well I can't help it if I'm so skinny, blame my genes. In fact, I wouldn't mind packing a few pounds myself!"

Kathy laughed, then handed Cynthia her half-empty cup of strawberry frapucchino. "Start sipping honey, this thing has enough calories to last you a few days. It's a start, right?"

Cynthia giggled, shrugging while taking the drink graciously. "Hey Lisa, want some?"

Lisa, waking up from a lengthy doze, turned sharply. "No. No. I'm fine."

Michael looked at her with a worried expression. "Lisa, you haven't even had dinner yet. Even if your appetite really is that low, how about we get you a salad or something light? C'mon, it'll be my treat."

Kathy leaped towards Michael. "You're treating me as well, am I right?"

Michael snorted. "You got a husband: use _his _credit card."

Lisa shook her head. "No guys, I'm okay, really. I already had something to eat before I came here anyway...wait." Lisa's eyes were suddenly directed towards an idle snow-cone stand near the center of the shopping plaza, and the feeling of sweet cold ice relieving her from the heat seduced her.

Michael chuckled as he followed her gaze. "How does a large cup sound?"

Lisa grinned blissfully. "Oh, sounds absolutely great."

Kathy whistled. "Hope they got extra large."

-----------------------------------------------

Jackson watched them make their way towards the snow-cone stand, Kathy tugging playfully at Lisa's shoulder as Michael took out his wallet, fishing through five-dollar bills. He had abandoned his spot at the cafe and was concealed inside the refuge of a small souvenir shop, pretending to take a interest in the magazine stack in front of him.. This was it; his former employee shouldn't be too far. It was only a matter of minutes before the unidentified hit man would make his appearance known. Jackson only hoped that he himself hadn't been spotted first.

"C'mon, where are you?" He whispered in ire, his eyes studying the area, checking every face around the perimeters of the snow-cone stand.

_An older couple, no. A little girl with her stuffed rabbit, I hope not. Man with bad fashion sense, no..._

Two tense minutes passed, but finally a dark figure stalked from the bushes diagonally across Lisa and her friends, revealing a tall, stocky man in a posh suit that was a bit too obnoxious to be worn by any average Joe. The man had crushed his cigarette onto the pavement with polished Salvatore Ferragamo shoes, and his eyes shifted left and right as he talked lowly to his razor cell phone. His face was stony and stoical, glancing at Lisa once or twice as he leaned against the side of the public bathrooms.

_Bingo._

Jackson's lips curled in relief: the man's name was Paul, and although Jackson only knew little of his former co-worker's profile, he knew that Paul was a capable man and had always held a fairly respectful position. Still, his one major flaw was that he was idiotic and arrogant enough to wear such a pricey suit, which made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the casual, jovial atmosphere of the entertainment venue. What, was he just asking to be spotted?

Paul snapped the flip phone shut after a curt goodbye, then peered around him before sharply turning, heading towards the men's restroom. After the bathroom door had shut closed, Jackson placed his hands in his pockets and followed.

----------------------------------------------

"Enjoying your strawberry snow-cone Lisa?" Michael asked, receiving back a slow nod from Lisa.

"Very."

The group remained awkwardly silent for a moment, Lisa simply staring straight ahead of her, eyes distraught in thought. Kathy decided it best to be brave and ask the question.

"Leese, is everything alright?

Lisa visibly grimaced, chewing on her plastic spoon, trying to ignore Kathy's probing stare. "Yeah. I've just been a bit under the weather lately. I might be getting something."

Michael exhaled sharply. "Lisa, we've gone over this. We are your friends, if you need to..."

"Seriously Mike, it's fine," Lisa said, her tone becoming slightly rigid. "Really guys, I appreciate your concern, but it's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a never ending headache."

Another silence resumed.

-------------------------------------------

Jackson stared proudly at his masterpiece. What was once a enviable Hugo Boss jacket was now soaked in water, and its wearer was sitting unconscious, upright on the toilet. Paul wasn't as careful as he should have been and didn't even have time to react when Jackson clocked him on the head with an iron fist. Dragging the man was the real challenge; he certainly didn't grow thinner the last time Jackson saw him, and situating him on the toilet almost made Jackson break out in a sweat.

"Sorry Paul, nothing personal." Jackson muttered, picking up the trampled cigarette on the tile floor and placing it back in Paul's mouth. He had injected a decent amount of the emergency-case sedatives to make sure Paul wouldn't go anywhere for the next twelve hours, and after searching his jacket, he discovered an impressive switch blade, gun, and bottle of sleeping pills.

He considered taking the weaponry for his own use, but decided that it was best to leave it. Once the janitor finds him and realizes that he's been knocked out good, chances are that the police or ambulance might come. It's going to be hard for Paul to talk himself out of owning a Colt 1911-WWI Replica without a license, even more difficult if they find his job's detailed "instructions" tucked away in his pocket.

Jackson gazed at him detachedly for one last time before closing the bathroom stall. Paul hadn't been a horrible fellow, just an unfortunate one.

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"It's getting late guys. I have to pick up the kids from my mother-in-law's house," Kathy yawned, fumbling with the keys of her van. "Little brats will want some ice cream on the way, I just feel it. Anyway, I'll call you later Leese!"

"Bye!" Lisa said, waving her hand. She turned to see Cynthia and Michael talking quietly amongst themselves, with Michael's face flushing slightly after Cynthia released a suppressed giggle. Raising an eyebrow, she queried Cynthia. "And what about you two?"

Cynthia smiled nervously while Michael sputtered. "Well we just...Cynthia just wanted to go to her house, you know...movies and stuff."

"Uh-huh." Lisa smiled, knowing. "Well you two have fun. I have to go home and take care of a few stuff."

"No no no Leese!" Cynthia went frantic, her cheeks also becoming beet red. "You can come too! It was just an idea..."

"Guys, it's alright. I'm fine." She asserted, hushing them both. "You don't even have to walk me to my car: I'm a big girl. Just promise me you both will call later, alright?"

Both Cynthia and Michael looked reluctant, but nodded in unison. Before they had time to apologize, Lisa had already brisked away, grinning victoriously.

_Yeah, they can thank me later when they get married..._Lisa thought, heading over to the vast parking lot, crunching her spoon against the hardened ice that had developed at the bottom of her snow-cone. Blinding headlights and the sound of tires going over speed bumps were the only thing that Lisa's senses grasped, and she felt herself lose herself in her thoughts. Lately, she seemed to be doing that a lot.

_I will be just fine...I've slept safe these past few nights. No crazy murderer jumping through my window. If I can't go to sleep then I'll just call dad and spend the night over there. Besides, I haven't done that in so long. Hmm...why don't I just..._

Suddenly her wrist was grabbed tightly, causing her snow-cone to plop onto the asphalt, the styrofoam cup denting awkwardly from the impact as shards of pink ice littered the area. Lisa gasped, and immediately flung herself backwards, shrieking as she tumbled harshly into a parked sedan, the blow making a painfully loud thud. The memory of the rape flickered instantaneously, and she felt her once inert scar blaze up in livid alarm.

_Not without a fight._

She thrusted her hand wildly to her attacker, only for it to be repossessed by his impermeable grip. She cried, beating onto the jacket of her attack as he caught hold of her other wrist and shoved her mercilessly against him. Lisa was ready to bite her way to safety, only to freeze as cold blue eyes took her breath away.

_Jackson?!_

Ok...so the next chapter is exclusively Lisa & Jackson. No friends, no interruptions, just pure, unadulterated interaction between our two main people. And sorry for the whole thinking-I-uploaded-a-chapter-but-I-didn't-incident. COMIN SOON!!!


	5. The Compromise

Finally, juicy interaction! Just wanted to say that your reviews are the fuel to this fic; I didn't know it could be so encouraging. I just graduated from high school so I've had a lot of things to attend to (parties, ceremonies, big dinners blah blah) but I managed to get this in. OK ONWAAARD!!

Jackson glared down at Lisa's frantic face with amused eyes.

"W-why are you here?!" She stammered, trying to pry herself out of his grip with no luck. Her knees had gone out; if he lets go then she was sure she'd fall to the ground.

Jackson grinned. "You stood me up, remember?"

Lisa stared at him in horrid awe, mouth agape. _This couldn't really be happening...why does everything bad happen in a parking lot?_

"You see, here I was, trying to be the gentleman and buy you a drink and talk business, but instead you decided to ditch me. Seriously Leese, you sure know how to spoil a moment," His deceivingly humorous tone did not bring Lisa any comfort; she knew better that to respond in kind. "But don't act like you have a choice now, because you're going on a little drive with me. Now."

Lisa shook her head. "No no, don't hurt me. Just let me go..." She tried squeezing her way out, pleading freedom with watery eyes. He only stared back coldly.

"Jackson, let go!" Her voice had become shrill. "Don't hurt me! Just leave me alone!"

Cursing under his breathe, Jackson tightened his grip, hushing her.

"Dammit Leese, stop being so selfish. I'm not here for _you,_" He emphasized the last word and allowed it to sink in, satisfied when her face had warped into confusion. "I'm after what you happen to own. I'm here simply to protect some goods for my company, so don't think I'm here for personal reasons; I have a job to do and you sure as hell aren't going to screw it up for me this time."

Suddenly angered at his assumption that she would just submit wordlessly, she rose her chin up defiantly, challenging his authority with stormy eyes. "And if I don't comply?"

Jackson laughed sharply. "It's not a matter of complying or not: you're going."

Lisa started backing up, but he yanked her closer to him, shaking his head. "No, not this time Leese. And contrary to popular belief, I'm not here to hurt you."

Lisa grimaced, looking down at her wrists which were tingling by the lack of blood flow from his unyielding bind. "You're hurting me right now."

He smirked. "You're hurting yourself. All right, fair enough. If you really are going to act that way..." He released her hand, his eyes still locked on hers. "...then you can walk in front of me to my car. It's a great deal Leese, because the other option is me pushing you there, none too gently, no matter what you try to pull."

Lisa stood still, her eyes searching for any flicker of deception or artifice in his eyes. Alas, he returned her inquiry with a blank gaze.

_Just human._

"...where's your car?" She finally asked, her voice faltering despite her determined expression.

He gave a wolfish grin, taking from his pocket his car keys and pointed it to a black Audi A5 a mere ten yards away, its headlights flashing in recognition. "After you."

Lisa trudged carefully to the car, with Jackson more or less breathing down her neck, ready to pounce on her if she were to run off. The thought of sprinting away towards her own car tempted her, but her flip-flops were not made for a quick get-away and she worried of the consequences she would face.

"Nice car." She muttered, examining the slick paint job as Jackson opened the passenger door for her, the distinct new-car smell embracing her senses. The interior was impeccably clean, almost sterile.

"It's just the company car," Jackson said, leaning over to buckle her up. "My real car has been suspended and is in storage after our little incident, all thanks to you." Before he had even finished the sentence, he slammed the door harshly in evident ire. Lisa groaned, knowing that even if they really were discussing "business", it would all be interlaced with the bitter underlinings of the past.

After opening the door midway and standing outside to monitor his surroundings, Jackson plopped himself onto the driver's seat, pausing before abruptly pointing to the glove compartment.

"There is a gun in there Leese. If you seriously think I'm here to threaten your life then by all means, use it. Go ahead, put it in your purse. It's even loaded."

Lisa couldn't believe what he had just said. With jittery fingers, she opened the glove compartment to find a small hand gun on top of a pile of crinkled papers, just like he had promised. Gasping, she immediately slammed it shut, irritated as she heard Jackson chortle slightly.

"Don't act like you've never used a gun Leese. I have the scars to prove it," Jamming the key into the ignition and roaring the vehicle to life, he glanced at Lisa with unkempt humor. "But whatever you do, don't bother me with too many questions... I'd rather get shot." The way he sang that last sentence earned him a withering glare from Lisa, and she immediately jerked the glove compartment open and placed the gun inside her purse.

"Thatta girl."

The ride was quiet, with only the sound of the highway humming beneath them and the slow melody of a dismal piano droning away on the radio. Lisa watched the city lights fade behind her, the highway being replaced by a narrow two-lane road that danced next to the ocean side. Twenty long minutes passed, and soon only the white foam tops of waves and array of constellations were visible amongst the moonless night.

Lisa cooed slightly at the scenery, her fingers touching the window's cool glass as the lights of luminous stars winked at her, implanting small seeds of needed comfort. She felt Jackson's gaze shift towards her, examining her brief moment of sentiment, but she gave it no heed. What was there to say?

He finally jerked the steering wheel to the right, pulling over onto an abandoned gravel parkway only twenty yards from the ocean. An ancient light post was the only light source in the entire area, its sickly yellow bulb flickering with years of neglect. Lisa held her breath, watching Jackson from her peripheral vision, hoping he wouldn't throw in one of his randomly callous remark. Instead, he turned off the lights of his car and emitted a tired breath before twisting the key to silence the vehicle. Lisa jerked out of her seat belt, more or less jumping out of the car, her thin flip-flops gritting against the small assortment of dusty rocks and pebbles.

The eerie tranquility of the obsidian ocean caused her to stumble onward as her footing adjusted from gravel to deep trenches of virgin white sand. The wind was merciless, making her shirt ripple across her body, and she had to fight her hair from consuming the entirety of her face, blockading her view of the endless black waters that laid before her. Realizing the absolute isolation of this patch of almost untouched beach, she knew that if Jackson blew a fuse and decided to harm her, he would have no problem doing so in irrevocable privacy. The thought sent a chill down her spine, and she looked longingly at the ocean, searching for a sign of freedom, hoping peace was still evident amongst all the darkness.

Turning around, she saw Jackson studying her with empty eyes, his face unreadable. His hands were nestled in his jean's pockets as he stood his ground on the edge of the gravel parkway, refusing to teeter along the sand. Biting her lower lip, she took one last glance at the stars above her, then turned around and paced back towards him, deciding it best to talk first.

"Well, lets talk business Jackson. What do you need from me? If it's another phone call then you're out of luck."

"No." His face remained impassive, his tone even more so.

"So what?"

"First of all, this isn't going to be an overnight venture, this project will take some time. You see, you happen to hold something that people of my kind need."

"What, a decent life?''

His face grew bitter. "No. Private schedules. Remember a long time ago, when little Miss Lisa Reisert had Keefe 's family agenda? That's the type of info I am talking about. Only since your little promotion, instead of having a few important files here and there, you have a whole case full."

"So you mean to tell me is that you want a few schedules?" Lisa could not comprehend what he meant. Why were schedules so important?

"The Hannigans, family of four who own Viacom. Michael Truman, also known as CEO of Intelgrat Inc. Ryan McGregor, congressman, those type of people. They email you their monthly schedules in order for you to book an appropriate room for them, to make sure they are your top priorities. Of course, you think nothing of it and do what's required, but that type of information has high value to some people. Even with our best hackers, sometimes we can't infiltrate everything, so we go to whoever manages the information, in this case, you."

Lisa rubbed her arms, feeling goosebumps prickle down her back, aware that it wasn't due to the scourging wind. "You're giving me too general of an explanation, what do you need it for? It's someone in particular right? What does your little terrorist group want now?"

Jackson grunted. "It doesn't matter, because I no longer work for them. You see Leese, I'm working for a company that occasionally allies with some of your little political demigods. Remember Keefe? Back in the day, even he used to hire our services."

Lisa's eyes widened in utter surprise, disappointed that Keefe himself had held friendly ties to the underground world. Jackson was more than pleased at her reaction, and continued.

"But that's besides the point, because what matters is that now you have a few hunters out to get you and what you hold. I'm sent here to protect the information from getting into the wrong hands. I can't wrap all the details at once, but I don't want my old company to get their hands on the schedules of one of our customers. "

"Customers? You mean one of my clients that I deal with at the hotel?"

"That's right. One of your customers bought protection from my company. My former employees want to assassinate this person, so now I have to make sure his schedule remains confidential. It's a difficult task, considering that _you_ are more than stubborn to comply."

Lisa snorted at the vitriolic tone he used, and decided to answer back with full force sarcasm. "What do you expect Jackson? You shove me around and belittle me and expect me to just go with it? Seriously, what makes you think that..."

She kept slurring borderline insults, but the sight of that scar inscribed on his neck, the one that she had lacerated so long ago from their fatal encounter on the airplane, captured her undivided attention. Jackson narrowed his eyes, slowly stepping closer, and Lisa suddenly realized that she had stopped speaking.

"Go on, have a look. I know you want to." He tried to compose his voice, but she recognized the intense edge it held.

Reluctantly, Lisa warily approached him, feeling danger gambol around her as Jackson stood awaiting, looking like a beautiful phantom with the untamed wind ruffling his tawny hair. He raised his neck slightly, inspecting her under heavy eye lids as her right hand slowly reached out and settled at the base of his neck, right beneath the scar. It was small but thick, a dull pink mutilation that reminded Lisa of her own scornful scar, one she thought she had almost forgotten. She drew closer, letting her index finger tap at it lightly, then slowly she stroked it. He inhaled sharply, his eyes still boring down, scrutinizing every slight moment of her face, searching for any trace of emotion. Her eyes were transfixed upon the mark of defeat that she had marred him with long ago, and the corners of her lips tugged into an unintentional smile.

Immediately Jackson snatched her hand, his nails biting her skin as he shoved her towards him, eyes ablaze. Lisa pulled back as she dropped her purse, yelping as his other hand gripped her shoulder, the seam line of her cotton shirt tearing slightly under his painful clutch. Jaws clenched, his voice had become ragged and deep.

"How does it feel Lisa? Good, doesn't it? Standing over someone in pure victory, reveling in their inferiority. You're not so different from me Leese than you think. You're not so different than any of us. Besides..." Jackson took a step forwards, his face closing in on hers with an ugly expression. "I am sure you know how it's like to be scarred by somebody else. You know more than most people, don't you?"

His eyes flickered to that spot, _that_ spot that Lisa assumed had been healed, had been accepted and recognized with seeming indifference. It grew on fire at his words, and Jackson only continued to pour gasoline on it, fueling her anger. "You keep convincing yourself you're over it, but what I see is someone who numbed themselves up before truly resolving the issue. You can party, shop, and laugh all you want with your pals, but what are you really, Lisa? Happy? Or just making yourself appear happy?"

_What was he trying to do?!_

"I thought you said this wasn't personal. Why are you being so attentive of my own issues?" Lisa's voice had become fragile and raw, but her gaze was blazing in barely contained wrath.

"Did I hit a nerve Leese?"

"Did_ I_ hit a nerve Jack, to make you so concerned about my emotional well-being? If not, then just drop it."

Hating the way the spotlight was suddenly all on him, he released her all together, watching her almost tumble onto the bed of sand as he quickly diverted the topic. "There are people after you Leese, people who don't see what I see. I'm not a good guy granted, but I can name a few people out there who aren't as forgiving as I am. In fact, I had to chase one off your tail earlier this evening."

Lisa, still outraged at his rough handling of her, brushed the sand off her purse as she rose an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"The name is irrelevant, but I found an impressive switch blade and gun in his jacket, along with some notes on how to "take-out-Reisert". Pretty self-explanatory, right?"

Lisa avoided eye contact with him, merely focusing her gaze at her now sand- pasted purse. Her shoulders longed to quake in a hybrid of fright and incense, but pride kept her composed. Jackson on the other hand, being the predator he was, smelled the fear a mile away.

"You're nothing but a means to an end Leese, a disposable tool that becomes worthless after use. Once your value hits rock bottom, chances are that they'll kill you."

"Why? Why me though? I haven't done anything!"

"Like I said Leese, it's not because of _you_, it's because of what you have. That's why I exploited you a year back: only in that head of yours did you have the passwords, the authority, and the knowledge to switch those rooms. Anyone else wouldn't have gotten the job done."

Her eyes shot up to meet his, glimmering in tears that burned. "But again?! I'm not some important political figure! I'm just a hotel manager! Keefe could probably..."

He snickered, languidly crossing his arms as he shook his head incredulously. "Keefe doesn't know shit Leese, he has more things to worry about like saving his own ass. Sure, you saved his family and opted him to take better precautions. Hooray. But Keefe is limited in his protection and can't guarantee you safety. My people aren't stupid Leese, and even if you change your name, move out, even enter into the Witness Security Program, they will find you. Repeat, they _will _find you."

Unable to look at him for another sane minute, Lisa spun around to take sight of the murky waters ahead, feeling her suppressed rage dismantle slowly as the sound of the waves crashing towards the shore seemed to wash away her internal chaos. She stayed silent for a few minutes, feeling an aura of impatience radiate from Jackson behind her, but she ignored it cheerfully. Finally, after feeling her heart rate return to normal, she hummed an approved note.

"So what do you propose I do?"

Jackson's entire composure relaxed, the feeling of possible success throwing him back into business. "This is where the exchange comes in: You give me the files and records of all the clients you have catered to in the past six-months, and I give you valid protection. Better than Keefe could ever do."

Lisa huffed. "You? Protection? Oh wait, didn't you try to kill me once?"" The thought of him guarding her made her want to laugh hysterically; it seemed more like a joke than anything else. "And hey, just a minute ago you nearly threw me on the sand, not to mention yanked me around when the mood strikes you. You really believe that I could just trust you?"

Her words irritated him to no end, not because of her tone, but because they held some truth in them. Still, a compromise could be made. "Here's another exchange then Leese: _if_ you don't ask so many damn questions and do as I say instead of trying to play the heroine of the century, then I'll be a gentleman and refrain from tossing you around. It's entirely up to you, really."

_Gentleman my ass. _

Lisa cleared her throat, knowing that if she indeed was going to go forwards with this crazy fiasco, she would have to reap her own personal benefits as well."Only with an unconditional offer Jackson."

"And what's that?"

"Guarantee me that after all of this, I can go back to my normal life. No ifs, ands, or buts. And..." She lingered on that word, her lips pressed together tightly as she finally turned around to strike Jackson with a hateful glare.

"...and?"

"Never come back into my life again. Ever."

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Mas dialogue and a few other things...hehehe...coming up!!!!! Patiente, mi gente, patiente!


	6. Seabreeze

I know I know...been awhile since I updated. Life is just kinda like that, ya know, things spring up. Anywho, here it is, more dialogue goodies, and I am somewhat content with this block of words. Please review, it makes my day! Keep throwing in some lumber to keep the fire going!

"I'll aim to please Leese. Besides, the whole never-seeing-each other scenario was going to happen regardless. A happily ever after for the both of us."

Jackson pulled out his hand for her to shake it, but she merely stared at it, looking dumbfounded.

"It's called a handshake Leese. Seals the agreement."

"I don't want to shake your hand."

Jackson laughed incredulously. "All right then, so what does your majesty want, a bow?"

"I prefer you shut up with the witty banter and tell me what we are going to do."

His eyes narrowed into slits as he stalked towards her, his previous humor withered into anger. "Don't think you can be a cocky bitch, thinking I'll just take it. The whole not-yanking-your-limbs-off is becoming very, _very _conditional, so stop thinking that you have it all planned out."

His icy stare caused Lisa to lean backwards, her fingers digging into her clutch bag. Still, she felt the need to put her foot down and make it clear that she wouldn't get shoved into whatever direction she wanted. "Whatever. Just tell me what you planned out. Where do I go from here?"

"Right. Well, after I feel that you got the necessary information through that thick skull of yours.."

"Excuse me?"

"...strong-willed skull of yours, I'll drop you off at your little car at Coral Square, give you a night to pack, and next morning you go to work, demand the vacation you oh so deserve. Then, you scoop up all the files and then we take off."

"Take off where?"

"Should it matter to you?"

"Yes, it should, considering I am a temporary partner."

Jackson grimaced, growing uneasy and, ironically, a bit amused with her self-proclaimed title. "Aw, but it's still too soon Leese. I still think we need more time to get to know each other..."

"Oh stop it with all that crap! Stop and make your point!"

"A safe house. Location can't matter to you."

"Why not?"

"Because then it wouldn't be called a safe house."

"Then what? Rent movies, eat Chinese take out and just wait for people to come kill us?"

Jackson huffed at her mocking theory. "My boss will come and retrieve the files, you behave like a good little girl, and if we are lucky then the deal cuts off quickly and you get to go home once things cool down."

The speed in which he described the job provoked suspicions within Lisa, causing a trickle of unease to dampen his explanation. "It can't be that easy, you're just telling me the best case scenario Jackson. What's the real deal?"

He pursed his lips in annoyance, his eyes regarding her condescendingly. "You know what, you're absolutely right. Chances are that my old company will try to stop us on several occasions, a few gun shots may break out, they may possibly break into the safe house if they track us down..."

Lisa laughed dryly. "And you can do better than Keefe...?"

Her sarcasm caused Jackson to spin around, a cloud of sand and gravel spewing from his angry strides as he shoved his clenched fists harshly into his pockets, trying to control his barely masked temper.

_Just don't look at her._

"Leese, I don't think there is a one-hundred percent safe house anywhere. My old company were smart, capable people. Keefe would only ship you off in some remote location and throw in some second-hand guards to 'protect you'. I know my own kind and know how they work. Your chances are better off with me, as long as you comply and do as I say."

Lisa watched him pace back and forth, reminding her of a disgruntled little kid trying to fight back a tantrum. A shame, it would have been a funny sight if only he didn't have the fate of her life in the palm of his hand.

Realizing that he was waiting for her to respond, she spoke up quickly.

"I don't think you've given me enough leverage to trust you Jackson..."

Another incredulous chortle from Jackson. "Ha, I really don't care if you trust me or not: you're going. This is the easy way out, the way that won't worry your father or anyone else, the way you can make a proper goodbye. You don't want to go, fine. I'll just sedate you later and take you anyway. You can run to Keefe, sure, and tell him everything that happened, but he won't find me or my company. Instead he'll be focusing on the roots of the guy I took down earlier today, the one who was tracking you. In the end, it all amounts to this: If you don't go with me, you're dead for sure."

A tense silence came. Jackson was at a standstill, watching Lisa squint her eyes, deep in thought.

"...okay Jackson. Give me two days to get ready."

"Too much. One."

"C'mon Jackson, you really don't expect me to do all of this in a day."

"Of course I do. You're a resourceful woman; you figure it out."

Lisa groaned, massaging her temples at the impossibility and frustration of the situation.

_Stupid, arrogant, demanding son-of-a..._

"Leese, these people aren't going to say 'Hey, let's give the poor little hotel manager a head start, hm?' No, they need you now. The sooner we leave the better."

Lisa raised a disapproving eyebrow at him. "Won't it just be awkward just leaving like that? What if I'm gone for too long? Will my boss really let me go? People are going to question that! You know about my father as well!"

"Like I said, you'll figure it out. I really don't care if you get yelled at, questioned, or even fired. In fact, getting fired would do you some good...makes you worthless."

Lisa's eyes widened, mouth agape. "Worthless?!"

Jackson chuckled, finally turning around to meet Lisa's outraged glare.

"That's a good thing Leese. Just another civilian, with nothing to profit from. All I ask is that you make it sound convincing. You're good at lying, even better at impromptu actions, so don't disappoint me. And hey, you got the rest of tonight to figure out your little alibi."

Lisa closed her eyes, frustration clouding her better judgment. There was an internal storage room of suppressed insults and yelling that beckoned to erupt, but she diverted her thoughts to more productive things. All in all, they needed each other. And because of that, she could put her foot down as well and spark up more compromises.

"Still, two days." She finally said, eyes still closed.

"What?"

"You're giving me two days or else, no deal."

"This is your life Leese..." He taunted.

"And this is your job Jack, and I know you can't afford to fail again." Her eyes opened to see his head had cocked, with murderous blue orbs piercing her with an eerie coolness that made her stomach flip.

He spoke, but his voice was low, almost soft. "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I really did finish you off in your father's house...I really do."

_Danger._ Lisa's breath hitched, her legs growing weak as she remembered their infamous quarrel. A gurgled growl, a vicious smile, then falling, spots of colors clouding her vision as each stair step pounded her head. The ache of battered ribs, watching him prowl down the stairs, his eyes predatory and eager...

"Would you have really?" Lisa said quietly before gulping. The bile in her stomach threatened to make a come back.

"Oh, absolutely. In that point of time, all I wanted was to see you in pain. I wasn't going to just put you out of your fucking misery so quickly."

He took one slow step towards her, his jaws clenched, causing his cheekbones to raise into an unnaturally high arch that were only emphasized with the dim lighting. Lisa felt herself bump into the side of his car, and frantically her hands dug through her purse, fingers finally gripping the gun. She shoved it out, hands trembling as she aimed it at Jackson, who seemed unaffected by her threatening stance. He took three more steps onward, until he was a foot away from her, watching her shoulders quake with fear as the gun pointed to his head.

"Don't." She whispered, her fingertip lightly stroking the trigger nervously.

He took a deep breath, turmoil and indecision apparent on his face.

_How are we going to survive this if we can't even control ourselves from trying to hurt each other? Job...or self-gratification?_

Then, his jaws eased. Arms relaxed, he rose his head up to examine the stars above, watching Lisa's aim falter slowly from his peripheral vision. "I won't Leese, not now, but lets get one thing straight, shall we? Don't make an enemy out of me, don't you dare press my buttons... because after all of this, once you no longer matter to my company or anyone else, I can always come back... and get you."

Only the sound of the waves crashing in the distance and Lisa's barely audible whimpers were heard. He glanced quickly at her, one of the thin straps of her shirt was slowly dropping from her shoulder to the side of her arm, exposing her shivering collar bone. Amid all the chaos, her face was still struggling for composure, a lower lip that refused to quiver, eyes glossed in tears too stubborn to fall. His anger dismantled at the sight, and after a moment of examination, he decided to ease the blow.

"But that's only an "if" statement Leese, it's all up to you whether it stays that way or not. I'm not really a vengeful person, but I've never had anyone screw things up for me in my life like you."

"Likewise." Lisa choked the words out, her hand retreating inside her purse, placing the gun back. She felt a tear roll down her left cheek, but she gave it no heed. Realization had struck: what made Jackson a monster wasn't his physical abilities, but the fact that he could strike in places she thought were immune, laugh at her misery, tap into her past and, worst of all, made her remember how much it hurt to be dominated by a death threat. Like that monster who had defiled her years ago, Jackson kept holding that figurative knife against her throat.

"We are clear though, about what you need to do Leese. That's fine, a day and a half, but no more than that. One I come to pick you up, you go. No 'Oh, but I forgot my wallet', none of that. And don't pack heavy, pack clothes and essentials only. I can't give you a specific time frame of how long it's going to take, but you need to be prepared."

"All right." Lisa said grimly, grateful that she had the support of the car behind her, otherwise she wasn't sure if she could stand. Jackson stepped closer, peering down at her impassive face.

"Look at it this way Leese, if you're good to me, I'm good to you. You comply with my rules, I'll comply with yours," Gently, he tugged her fallen strap upright onto her shoulder with his index finger. "I'm the bad guy, I know. But unfortunately, I'm not the worst. There are plenty of other monsters out there who will do far more worst things than I ever would, believe me. As for now, lets use what we have to the best of our abilities and get out of this alive."

"I want to go home." Lisa mumbled, her voice resembling the innocent plea of a small child. Her body ached for the comfort of her bed, the sight of her walls, which were now full of framed photographs of her friends and family.

Jackson was still relentless. "Only if you tell me what you plan to do. The short but accurate version."

Sniffing, she allowed another tear to stream down her face. "I'm going to go home, cry until I feel the need to stop...go to the Lux and tell them some crisis..."

"_Personal _crisis. '" Jackson corrected.

"...personal crisis came up, and I won't be able to go to work for awhile."

"Tell them two weeks or more." He urged.

She merely nodded in response. "If they ask for more information, I'll just say it's private. Keep it as vague as possible. I'll retrieve the files before I go, then go home and call my friends..."

"No. Don't call them with your phone." Jackson said flatly. "I'm sure its been bugged. Go to wherever they work or live, and keep it brief. Tell them your "crisis" story and don't make a big deal about it. Don't cry, act yourself."

Lisa turned her head, unable to bear his intent eyes, as they seemed to further press the overwhelming sorrow to her crackling heart. She couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't cry.

"Then after I...I..." Her voice faltered, breaking hoarsely as she fought back the strangled sob. "I'll spend whatever time I have left with my father, and meet you wherever you tell me to."

Jackson's attention seemed to have been captured by the stars again, and with one approved nod, he smirked. "You'll go to the Mynt Lounge...heh...and meet one of my co-workers at eleven o'clock, _two_ nights from now. Repeat after me: Mynt Lounge, eleven."

"Mynt Lounge, eleven."

"Right. Now since there ought to be another guy watching you that night, another shark from my old company, we want to make it look like that our co-worker is picking you up. Act flirty, happy, etc. When he tells you it's time to leave, it's time to leave. He'll escort you to his car, take you to 'his' place, where I'll be ready to pick you up. If we get it right, my old company won't know your gone until noon the next day, which can get us pretty far. But don't screw it up."

"I won't." Her voice was still shaken, but she refused to break down...in front of him at least.

Jackson peered down, examining her face, a bit thankful that she was containing herself so well in his presence. He might actually end the night without a few claw marks or scratches on his face.

_Easier than I thought..._

Sighing, he gestured his hand towards the door. "Come on. It's getting late and you need to prep up." Swiftly, he opened the passenger seat.

As she trudged dismally towards the door, an alarming question stopped her dead in her tracks. "Wait a minute Jackson, how will I know which guy is your co-worker?!"

Jackson flaunted his crooked grin, reveling her puzzled face. "He'll order you a seabreeze."

Whew! There you go fellas...review the good and bads. Go ahead man.


	7. Her Decision

I know my updates are erratic, but my nomadic life leaves me no choice! Thanks for all the reviews; it really makes my day! XOXO to ALL! Ah, and after reading this chapter, I'd like for some of you readers to answer a particular question at the bottom of this page. So onward!

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To Lisa's surprise, they did not talk on the way back to Coral Square. Glancing at him occasionally, she found that he was deep within his own thoughts, forehead crinkled in evident contemplation, hands gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly.

_Don't give yourself a brain __hemorrhage Jack..._Lisa thought amusingly to herself.

Finally, they reached the parking lot, which had become eerily desolate and empty. Abandoned cups and balloons littered the concrete.

Jackson turned his head slowly to meet Lisa's gaze, his eyes stony and stoical. "Two days Leese. Eleven. Be there."

"Mm." Lisa held his stare for a moment, trying to find a flicker of deception or deceit. Perhaps a minute had passed by, but for the faintest second, his eyelids dropped, a glaze of exhaustion and frustration consuming his blue orbs. Rubbing his eyes abruptly, a low sigh came deep from his throat.

"So are you getting out or what?" He was going for sarcasm, but his words only indicated his obvious fatigue. Taking no offense, Lisa merely turned to make her way out of his car, and the second she slammed the door shut he was off, tires squealing as he sped down the road.

_Show off._

Trudging slowly, Lisa suddenly felt a sharp wind bite at her. Cursing under her breath, she walked hastily towards her car, her eyes scanning the perimeters to see anyone, anything that might arouse her suspicion; it was like after the parking lot incident all over again. The twenty-foot walk to her car seemed like an eternity, and by the time she slammed the door shut and locked it, she felt that her heart was pulsating erratically. She jostled the key in the ignition with clammy hands, and was alarmed to find that the engine refused to start.

_Shit!_

She tried again, only to hear the disapproving whine of her car again, like the neigh of a horse refusing to be ridden. Lips quivering, she looked around again, jerking her seat belt off and opening the car door, almost stumbling onto the pavement. At first she decided it best to sprint towards the center of Coral Square; surely there must be a bar open at this time of night still!

Then, her cell phone rang.

Fishing it out of her purse, she looked to see that the number was marked "Unavailable."

_Danger. Danger. Danger. Danger._

Her fingers, which were prickling in terror, pressed the talk button. "...hello?" She said with a shaky breath.

"Listen." A voice commanded, its lustrous tenor thick with an eccentric European accent.

Her ability to breath seemed to have a malfunction as she tried to gasp for a breath of air, and she swirled around, looking up and down, anxious to see if her perpetrator was watching her on a roof top or behind a corner. On impulse, she fled towards the main shopping venue, her flip flops slapping against the asphalt.

_No!_

"Stand still. Nothing will happen if you remain calm and do exactly as I say. Now, stop running and stay where you are..."

Lisa stopped immediately and obeyed. Her chest trembled, in need of regulated breaths that would not come. Dropping her clutch purse, she slowly turned around, examining every building in the distance, each roof top, every window that came in view.

The man gave out a humored tsk. "You will not see us Ms. Reisert, but I assure you that we are here. Any wrong moves and you will be corrected."

"Why? Why are you...?!" Her lungs finally accepted air, only to exhale a blubbery wail.

"No time for crying Ms. Reisert, focus," The voice was cold, strangely indifferent, almost robotic. "You will answer every question I ask; do not lie. If you lie, we will kill you. Nod your head if you understand."

Lisa, her knees visibly shaking, jutted her head forwards.

"Good. Now then, Ms. Reisert. Who was the driver of that Audi M5 that had dropped you off?"

Lisa paused, realizing that they probably very well knew who the driver was. Was this a test of her honesty? An interrogation? An impatient click of the tongue on the phone line interrupted her frantic thoughts.

"Let me demonstrate a warning shot for you, Ms. Reisert, if you do not agree to answer us."

A gun shot rang out.

Lisa yelped, waiting to feel searing pain, realizing only later that she hasn't been hit. A warning shot indeed.

"You see? Now I'll repeat: Who was the driver of the Audi M5?"

"J-J... Jackson Rippner."

"And where did he take you?"

"I honestly don't know... it was outside Miami for sure, an isolated beach. I'm not sure..."

"You are not lying?" The man interrupted, his voice still a mere drone.

"How could I? I honestly don't know!" Tears finally dampened the sides of her cheeks.

A pause. She heard voices in the background, speaking low in murmurs in a different language. The man answered back suavely to them in the foreign tongue, then continued.

"Question two: What did he ask from you, Ms. Reisert?"

Lisa felt that reluctant throb in her throat tighten. Still, she didn't seem to have a choice, unless she wanted a bullet lodged in her skull. "...files. Records of all of my clients from the past six months."

"Did you comply?"

"Of course I did. It wasn't like I had a choice. It's kinda like now."

"Did he offer you anything in exchange, Ms. Reisert?"

"Yes, protection. From you."

The man chuckled darkly, making Lisa's stomach roll in dreaded nausea. There wasn't a justified word to describe how much hatred Lisa contained for men overconfident in themselves as they reveled in the inferiority of their targets.

"How about this Ms. Reisert? Instead of trusting Mr. Rippner's so-called "protection", why don't you favor ours?"

Lisa felt herself unravel, unable to take everything civilly without hysteria swallowing her up. She felt that she was being yanked around by a pack of wolves. "You see, that's the problem! I can't trust either of you! Please, I never meant any harm to anyone! Just take what you need from me and leave me alone! Don't you dare hurt my...!"

"Calm down, Ms. Reisert, calm down," The voice was clinical, detached. Even Jackson the hard ass himself had a more human feel in his voice. "This is just a business transaction. Last question now. When did Mr. Rippner expect to receive the files?"

_No._

This was it. This question pretty much gave her the ultimate decision: who to trust, Jackson or the dead voice on the phone? Both ends seemed to hold the same ultimate outcome in the end: death in different ways, no matter what they promised or guaranteed. Then, as if he himself had snuck behind her, Jackson's earlier statement resonated into Lisa's mind.

_"In the end, it all amounts to this: If you don't go with me, you're dead for sure."_

_Am I Jackson?_

Impulsively, Lisa thought of it in this sense: Which was worse, the threat of getting yanked, or shot?

"He said next week. Tuesday. Four days from now." She prayed he would believe her, prayed her voice or composure didn't give her away.

The silence was incredibly agonizing. Lisa stood as still as a statue, waiting for some red laser beam to appear on her forehead from the lurking sniper around. Everything, even the phone line, remained completely soundless. A long, intense minute passed by.

"...and where were you suppose to meet Mr. Rippner in order to give him the files?"

Again, Jackson's voice, velvet soft, echoed in her head. "_You're a resourceful woman; you figure it out."_

"He instructed me to leave them on my kitchen counter. He said he would come around eleven, and he wanted me to leave with him. He was taking me somewhere... a safe house somewhere... somewhere along the East Coast."

_Please, oh please, believe me!_

Another silence, followed by a conversation in a sharp sounding language. Was it German? Russian?

The voice returned. "Alright Ms. Reisert, I appreciate your honesty. This is what you will do if you want to stay alive: Tuesday night, the day you are suppose to meet Rippner, my associates will accompany you outside of your apartment before eleven. Expect nine o'clock. After I retrieve the files, two of my men will wait inside your apartment in order to take out Mr. Rippner."

"Take out? You mean..." Lisa knew what he meant, but something inside of her had to confirm it.

"Kill, Ms. Reisert, we are going to kill him. You have no objections, I assume?"

"No, none." Lisa said, almost too quickly. Suddenly it dawned upon her that Jackson's death would never be an alleviating occasion for her, despite all circumstances. Instead, it would make her feel even more scared for her own life, if that was at all possible. Unlike this voice on the phone, she was strangely familiar with Jackson, and despite his constant hazard to her, she had defeated him. He was human. But this _voice_... she didn't know what to expect, only that even if she really did follow through with their plans, they would consider her a threat if she wasn't killed. At least Jackson's itinerary included that she stayed alive... well, longer it seemed.

"Then we have a deal?"

"Yes. Absolutely." Her voice was beginning to stabilize.

"I am glad to hear it. A taxi will be here shortly to take you home; so sorry about your car. We just needed to get a hold of you immediately, because one of my men tonight was found... disposed."

"I see." So Jackson wasn't lying; he really did knock down a shark that had been following her.

_Oh, but only if he knew what was going on NOW!_

"Your car will be in your driveway by the morning, so do not worry. It was pleasant talking to you Ms. Reisert, and I hope you stick to our plan. I will contact you very soon. Good night." The phone line clicked, and along with it, so did Lisa's ability to stand.

Lisa let herself plop onto the concrete dismally, eyes blank as a buffet of thoughts exploded in her head. Her forehead felt like it was on fire.

"What have I done?" She murmured to herself, rubbing her shoulders as she hugged her knees to her chest. Jackson was coming to get her in two days, while his old company would come in four. Without a doubt they will be watching her every move, and what would happen then, when they find her gone, along with all the files? Will they believe her and go looking around the East Coast? Even worse, what if Jackson really was taking her somewhere along the East Coast? Either way, they would come looking for her eventually with murder in their plans, and Lisa could only hope that Jackson would protect her.

If he could really do that, well... maybe he could have one valid reason to be the cocky, arrogant ass he is.

_I chose Jackson. I'm either incredibly stupid or desperate. Probably both._

A pair of head lights came into view, and Lisa struggled to get up, her legs staggering, the flip flops causing one foot to slip. After a small battle with her protesting legs, she wobbled forwards as she saw the familiar yellow cab rolled by in the distance, stopping against the light pole.

After getting in, she saw that the driver was a nondescript, middled-aged man with russet skin. He looked at her with worn gray eyes. "Where to, Miss Reisert?"

Lisa's mouth slowly opened in confusion, her paranoia sinking in. "How do you know my name?"

His face turned defensive. "Well, you called just twenty minutes ago, right?"

Lisa blinked. "Yeah. Um, sure."

"Where to, Miss?" He said, now obviously irritated.

"Brickell Bay; it's on..."

"I know, I know Miss, you told me on the phone." He interrupted.

"... right."

_This is seriously bad._

Silently, he pressed the gas pedaled and was off, and Lisa pressed her forehead onto the glass in the back seat, feeling her migraine fade away with the cool sensation. For the drive home, at least, she'd try to let her mind take a break from all the plots and terror. Closing her eyes, she found that scenario to be impossible; instead she saw Jackson's intense eyes probing hers.

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Whew! So now she chose Jackson! Here's a question for all my reviewers: Who would YOU have chosen? Jackson's old company, or Jackson himself?


	8. His Distrust

Yes, so I haven't updated in awhile. But here it is! Yay-ness! Random thought: Isn't it great sometimes to write and have irrevocable control of the situation? Take for example Jackson: I very well could, for my own personal amusement, screw up every single nitch of a plan he ever thinks off and laugh as he throws a huge tantrum at life:

_(After months of planning...) Jackson: Ahaha! Lisa is all mine!_

_(Lisa disappears, followed by giggle of omnious writer.)_

_Jackson: ...DAMN YOU! _

Sorry, had to get it out. (Disclaimer: I don't own Red Eye obviously, but I'm sure we all have happened to own Cillian Murphy in our fantasies at one point or another, eh?)

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"Leese, don't you think this is all a bit sudden? Are you sure everything is alright?" Joe asked, his eyes crinkled anxiously as he examined his daughter on the opposite side of the kitchen table, her pallid hands sliding back and forth against the neck of a champagne glass filled to the brink.

"Yes dad, I'm alright. It just hit me: I haven't taken a vacation in over two years! I just figured it was about time. I need at _least_ two weeks off to..."

"It's a bit too sudden Leese," Joe interrupted, his eyes narrowing as Lisa took a long swig from the deep burgundy liquid, obviously not pleased. It was one thing for his daughter to act so impulsively, another for her to be on her fourth glass of Merlot. "Are you sure no one got upset with your abrupt request?"

Lisa licked her lips and smiled wearily, not wanting her father to look in it anymore than he already was. "Dad, they still have the whole Keefe incident in mind. It's true, they were a bit... puzzled by how unexpected my request for time off was, but no one seemed to have too much of a problem. There are a few people open to take over my position for a while."

Joe nodded slowly, stabbing his fork into a bowl of spinach ravioli, his eyes easing slightly from the seeming calmness of her voice. "So New York, huh? I thought you'd choose something a bit more quieter, like maybe the local beach or a visit to Dallas to be with your mother."

Lisa was usually immune from the guilt that accompanied her occasional series of white lies, but she felt the remorse trickling like tortuous water droplets every time she looked at her father's deeply concerned face. If he _really_ knew what was going on, how would he react? She could only imagine...

"Well I decided to do some shopping, you know? Take a walk in Central Park, buy Cynthia and Kathy some present, catch up on a book- chic stuff you wouldn't be interested in." Her voice was a bit too peppy that time, she noted.

He tilted his head as he mused her sugary words, but the crease in his forehead only deepened. "You sure you want to go all alone? I know you're an adult, but I want you to be careful. New York is a big city Leese, and there are a lot of bastards out there who might want to..."

"I'll be _fine,_" Lisa interjected with a little more venom than she intended, for she knew well how that sentence was going to end. "I just want time off to freshen up a bit. I'll promise I will keep you updated whenever I can."

Joe finally surrendered under Lisa's eerily determined eyes. "Alright."

After washing the dishes and engaging in more awkward conversation, Lisa sat stiffly on the sofa, eyes intent on the television, the aftermath of the ingested wine slowly numbing away the relentless anxiety that had plagued her the previous, Lunesta-free night. She had decided it best to nestle herself around the ones she loved dearest, because in all honesty, their presence was the only thing that kept her sane at this point, especially her father. Small things, like the smell of his pine wood cupboards, the taste of coffee after a long night of talking, their inside joke at his overuse of Ragu at every opportune time... small trinkets of memories that she would freeze-dry and store when her days became critical. Figurative happy pills she'd pop in for later.

"We are here!" Kathy, Cynthia, and Michael chimed at the same time, emerging from the front door, bright smiles intact.

Joe looked at them with narrowed eyes and snorted. "You guys are a bit late- we already ate. The foods still in the kitchen with some plastic wrap to keep it warm though."

Cynthia laughed nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that. Traffic was nasty today."

Kathy hovered over Lisa with a smug grin in place. "So Leese, it's about time you had a vacation. You really deserve to take a breather, what with all those hours of over time! And I can see you already made a toast.." She eyed the half-empty bottle of chilled Merlot that was on the coffee table knowingly.

Lisa smiled, feeling acutely rejuvenated as the glimmer in her friend's eyes seemed to be contagious. "You know it. Don't worry, wine coolers are in the fridge. Help yourself."

The rest of the evening was filled with the usual comical banter, fruitless channel surfing, and card games in Joe's newly attained redwood poker table. It was fuzzy, warm- like a hazy dream with the musical laughters of her friends echoing out reality. Still, she found the occasional fear seep in now and then, most of them fought off with a futile smile.

New York seemed to be the only thing that made sense in her alibi. It was a large perimeter to cover, and if anyone came looking for her, the intricacy and size of the city would serve as an advantage to buy more time. Time was essential in all of this, and the more she had free, the better.

But for now, all she needed to do was enjoy these few precious hours.

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"So you have the safe house cleaned out and ready?" Jackson asked, twirling the steering wheel with deft fingers as he made a sharp turn, the lights and glamor of downtown Miami reflecting off the tinted windows of his obsidian Audi.

"Yes I do. Just make sure you make it to Fulton County Airport in Atlanta no later than six o'clock AM, where the plane will be leaving for you guys. By the way, she retrieved the files earlier this morning at 11:43 and had her superiors chunk out a vacation."

"Good. Then all is according to plan."

"Well," Garrett paused briefly, enough for Jackson to feel a flare of anger furrow his brow. "Boss says that your old company contacted Lisa shortly after you dropped her off at Coral Square. Unfortunately, we have no idea what happened or what was said, but he says we are on high alert. She's under heavy surveillance, and chances are you are too."

Jackson's face remained immobile, although inside he was seething, his hands aching to rip off the leather that binded his prim steering wheel. Nostrils slightly flared, Jackson allowed his foot to pound the gas pedal, his engine wailing in response.

"So what does Boss want me to do?" Jackson growled.

"Stay low for awhile. We are sending a few guys to monitor your surroundings, follow you around and sniff up anything suspicious. Same goes for Lisa. The Boss says that he wants to keep the original plan intact: we still meet her at the Mynt Lounge, same time, etc. The only difference is that we have a few backup men ready to neutralize anyone suspicious- including Lisa, if she had made any type of pact with your old company that we are not aware of."

Jackson narrowed his eyes at Garrett's ending statement. Would she have? He really wasn't sure; lately things have been going to shit for him, so if it were true, it wouldn't surprise him in the very least. Lisa had always been a creative woman, and the thought of toppling her former tormentor using his previous employer was surely an appealing alternative. Whatever the case, he did not trust her. He never would after that pen made it's way to his throat.

"In that case, let me be the first to know. If she really made an alliance with them, then I'll be the one to neutralize her. Is there a way we can snatch the files now, or would that only put my old company in full offense?"

"No, not without making an unnecessary racket. We have to stay low. So, if Miss Reisert really did make a deal with..." Garrett trailed off suggestively.

"Like I said, I'll neutralize her. Take her out." Jackson's voice was more raw than usual, a raspy edge giving way to Garrett's doubt.

"You sure Jackson?" He inquired, his curiosity grating on Jackson's irritated nerves.

"What makes you ask that?"

"I don't know. What if she didn't?"

_If she didn't... _Jackson's mind lingered on that phrase, digesting it slowly with cautionary inspection. Although the chances to Jackson weren't likely due to his immense distrust and lack of faith in her, if she really did manage to comply with his plans, even at the absurdity and danger it provoked... it would, he cringed knowing this, probably raise a tally mark for Leese in Jackson's book.

"Jackson?" Garrett called, thinking he had hung up from the prolonged silence.

"If she didn't, then she's a smart girl," Jackson replied flatly. "I'm not too sure on the chances of that, but we will have to see, won't we?"

"Yeah, we'll see. Where are you headed to?"

"I need to get out of that closet-sized safe house and have a drink."

"Well, don't be wanting to take home any women you run into; your old company probably has a few ready to..."

Jackson rolled his eyes, interrupting him immediately before the upcoming lecture could start. "I know I know, I'll keep that in mind, _mother._"

Garrett ignored his sarcastic tone, chortling. "Damn Jackson, is there any women we can trust in this world?"

"Not the way we live, I suppose," Jackson said indifferently. "Keep me updated Garrett."

Hanging up in silent glee, he flung the phone onto the vacant passenger seat, then impulsively made a sharp right turn, leading him to a street he wasn't familiar with. The conversation with Garrett had made him lost his desire for a drink and, inevitably, the urge to encounter an available one-night stand.

_Wait, when was the last time I've had a one-night stand? _

Frustrated, the only thing that seemed to ail his musings was driving itself. Watching the world go by all around you, yet be inside a space that seemed to be entirely yours... Jackson calmed at the though, turning up the volume, the sound of Debussy flooding the car.

Lisa had a very, _very_ crucial decision to make now. If she were to ally with Jackson, Jackson would keep her alive. If she went against him, he could kill her. And although he himself had volunteered to be the grim reaper of that occasion, most of him truly pleaded for Lisa to comply with his protection. He wasn't necessarily vengeful, no... but he wasn't completely indifferent either. Obviously he wouldn't mind seeing her squirm around frightened to saturate his gratification, but in the end he didn't want to banish her to his way of life; she didn't have it in her, so he thought. Granted, she _had_ done nothing but ruin his life, make his career an absolute disaster, not to mention give him some physical ailments, perhaps permanently changed his viewpoints on womankind, thus leading to his complete lack of sexual life...

_... I'm over-analyzing this. _

With a hefty sigh, Jackson went on fourth gear and sped onward, his engine mingling with the sound of other ongoing cars as he entered the freeway, fading into the humid Miami night.

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JUST FOR NICOLINAN:

_Jackson: You were soooo right- I should have finished off Paul in the bathroom stalls. _

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I did it! Whooo! Please comment: Make me happy. Poor Jackson; he ain't getting no lovin...

_Jackson: SHUTUP!_

... haaaah. Anyway, I decided that this will be a LJ fic for sure, gradual but I finally made up my mind. Before they can go anywhere though we need some climatic tension... the distrust, the uncertainty (New grounds for Jackson), Lisa's belief that Jackson is nothing more than a phantom of society... it will go on and on.


	9. Faux Flirtation

I know I know... my lack of updating is an issue. But I have been a bit of a nomad recently and I just had to say farewell to all my high school buds, who are now far away, spread about from NY to LA. Sigh... and yes, my first year of college have arrived. With it may come stability, and with stability comes: More updates. And you know what makes we want to update? Sweet and thoughtful reviews. (Cough, cough) Lol...

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Once again, Lisa found herself standing in the crowded parking lot of the Mynt Lounge. To say that she was scared was an understatement- she was still waiting for that little red laser beam to come out of no where and blast her head away. Shuddering at the thought, she stuck her head up high as a futile attempt to appear 'normal' as she weaved through the poorly parked cars, stumbling twice on her way towards the entrance.

A man exiting had opened the door for her, and her ears took in the sound of the live jazz band playing at the small stage on the far right, adjacent to the bar. The dim lighting and streams of cigarette smoke reminded Lisa of those rare dream sequences they played in movies, ones that, although frightening, would usually end up with the person rising up from their bed to reveal it was all just a nightmare.

_Too bad this is reality._

Not knowing what to do, Lisa thought it best to simply sit at the bar and order a water, even though the appeal of an alcoholic beverage was more than enticing, given the current circumstance. Stiffly placing her non-descript purse on to the counter, (She wouldn't need Chanel where she was going. ) she watched the blonde bartender in front of her chatter alluringly to a group of attractive, thirty-something year old men. The bartender caught sight of Lisa for a brief second, but quickly resorted back to trifle with the pack of excited men, who all seemed a bit too preoccupied with her rather low-cut blouse.

_Looks like I won't get that water..._

Exhaling deeply, Lisa turned her head to watch the performance of the well groomed jazz band, all clothed in black. Her eyes immediately appraised the pianist, whose hands were flying expertly to an assortment of keys that she would have deemed impossible. Smiling briefly, she realized that she would have enjoyed this if it had been a friend outing or even a date, not a conspiracy meeting.

Minutes passed by, minutes of agonizing solitude and remorse. If there had not been a live band to at least distract her remotely, she probably would have debated leaving. The once poppy, upbeat jazz numbers finally lulled into a few ballads that reminisced Frank Sinatra, and the lights grew even dimmer, coating the room with vivid cyan hues.

"Are you really into jazz, or are you just watching to pass time?" A low voice next to her immediately raised pinpricks on the back of her neck. Cautiously, she turned to meet a pair of hazel eyes peer at her behind a pair of rimless glasses.

"It's really the piano that caught my attention." Lisa said, sounding a bit breathless. The lump in her throat threatened to suffocate her.

He was attractive, in a rugged kind of way. Cropped brown hair, an impressive five-o'clock shadow adorning a defined jaw line, he could have walked out of an Armani ad if it weren't for his rather simple attire. A black T-shirt and jeans was not in her expectations; she always expected these people to be clad in pricey couture or tailored suits. At least that what experience had taught her, anyway.

"Excuse me." He tilted his head to the bartender, who immediately responded, abandoning the lively group of now discouraged men.

"Yes, what can I get you?" Her eyes, their darkness concealed behind layers of blue contacts, openly appraised his features.

"A sea breeze for the lady." His smile was novel and dazzling- _too_ dazzling. It reminded her immediately of Jackson and his effortless charm at the Tex Mex bar so long ago.

_Bunch of frauds..._

Lisa remained silent, staring at the empty space in front of her, yet being very aware of his every minute movement. He chortled slightly at her unresponsiveness, then leaned closer to examine her with amused eyes.

"I heard you were quite a creative woman. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've seen a lot of crazy incidents in my life, but to have taken _him_ down, I'm still stunned. Even more so, when you're here, willing to actually work alongside him..."

"Should you be careful of what you say?" She interrupted his musings, her eyes finally gaining the courage to meet his. "I mean, couldn't people be listening?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he peered towards the jazz band, his smile widening. "Nah, they will just be curious. I already spotted three of them, and although right now our little encounter is raising a few eyebrows, the jazz band is a bit too loud for them to hear anything. But if they can read lips well... I guess we have to think of something more creative, hm?"

Lisa stared at him, puzzled. There was an obvious innuendo in his words, but Lisa was too wary and prim to grasp. Slowly, he leaned forwards, his lips mere inches away from her ear as his cool breath grazed her neck. Lisa's first reaction was to repel herself away from him and his close proximity, causing her face to slightly turn towards the other direction, her nostrils flared.

He tsked as he made his way closer. "Act the part, Mrs. Reisert, it shouldn't take long if you do it just right. You won't convince them if you remain unresponsive," His tone was soft but curt, with a slight warning edge beneath it. "Smile. Smile and keep smiling."

The sound of glass clicking onto the counter made Lisa's eye grow wide with determination, and her trembling fingers became slightly alleviated as she grasped her freshly concocted sea breeze, its rosy allure sealing in her part of the deal. Closing her eyes, she chugged down half of the cup bruskly, humming lightly before finally meeting his gaze, a keen smile emerging from her dampened lips.

"Much better." He approved, smearing away a droplet from her bottom lip with his thumb.

The next twenty minutes passed by with an assortment of irrelevant conversations, most of it dealing with their exchange of musical preferences and shared hatred of Gold Frapp. As time lulled by, he had nestled in much closer; his fingers that once lingered on her palm were starting to stroke the lengths of her cheekbone. Feeling horribly uncomfortable and flushed, Lisa had to grit her teeth from time to time, occasionally tucking away a few hairs that shielded his eyes as an attempt to make it look as intimate as possible. His face was luckily not disapproving or reproachful by her shyness, and slowly she eased into character, finally having the guts to stroke his ankle with her high heel clad foot.

Finally, he leaned in close and tucked away a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I assume you want to go over to my place."

It wasn't really much of a question, but his eyes were still lit, looking deceivingly eager and pleased.

"Of course," She responded, her voice so sugary it pummeled her gag reflex. Ever the gentleman, he tossed a twenty towards the fuming bartender and held out his arm towards Lisa, a crooked grin in place.

"How about you let me drive?"

"No problem." Lisa chuckled, letting a bit of the hysteria leek out. She really didn't know whether to scream or laugh anymore- this faux flirtation was a bit too absurd for her.

Struggling to keep up with his long strides as they exited, Lisa found herself being led towards a dark blue Infiniti G37. She paused, looking at her humble Corolla with longing eyes, then back at his face.

"My lu..."

He immediately squeezed her hand to the point of pain, causing Lisa to grimace.

"How about we talk more about that when we get to my place." His voice was rugged despite his set smirk, and with that he pulled Lisa into the passenger seat, closing the door promptly, leaving her speechless.

Appalled, Lisa gaped with widened eyes as he started the engine, the radio blasting a hard rock song that Lisa was not familiar with.

"My stuff! I need to..." She whimpered, her hand still sore from his brutal grip.

"You have your wallet and identification?" He said, his voice now flat and authoritative.

"Yeah, but my clothes..."

"Jackson arranged for you a totally new wardrobe set- toiletries and accessories included."

Mouth wide open, Lisa felt a wave of rage pummel her. "But I had personal stuff...!"

The cold, ugly look he shot her made her unable to continue. "Too bad."

Overwhelmed and feeling slightly betrayed, Lisa retreated her gaze back towards the window, gnawing on her lower lip to keep it from trembling.

After a drive of ten minutes, they entered a large, contemporary apartment complex called _The Atlantic Anchorage, _its entrance gate and obvious camera installations giving rise to Lisa's immediate anxiety. He rolled down his window as he slowly drove towards the heat sensitive keypad and quickly pressed eight digits. After a few seconds of debating, the large obsidian gates finally opened warily, and without hesitation he kicked his gas pedal, flying them inwards.

Parking sharply in between two suburbans, he jeered the car off and jumped out of the seat, motioning Lisa to get out with an impatient wave of the hand. Glaring at him, she grimly got out and slammed the passenger door harshly before proceeding to follow his inhumane pace. He looked back at her a few times, cussing under his breath.

"Come on." He pressed, finally grabbing her hand as they made their way up a flight of stairs.

Their path was a maze of never-ending stairs aligned with the blank faces of identical doors and balconies; each corner they turned only revealed another complex hallway of bleached white doors and vacant windows, all seemingly uninhabited.

_Probably just doing all this unnecessary walking to confuse me..._

Finally, they stopped at Door 738. Monitoring his surroundings briefly, Lisa's captor knocked on the door three times, paused, then knocked once. Lisa heard a slight shuffling from the other side, and finally the door opened slightly, Jackson's silhouette appearing.

"Well, how did it go Leese?"

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Bum bum BUUUM. I decided not to name the guy who just popped up, but he just might make a come back eventually, if any of you guys actually like him. (Pssh, I sure don't, and I created him: Oh the dilemma!) Review please and make my day!


	10. Photos Over Sarcasm

Ok...lack of update due to lack of Internet connection and lack of perseverance to get it on a jump drive to transfer it somewhere else. Pummel me with the latter part, but voila! It's here. And no longer shall I ramble, so read and review!

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Lisa silently glared at him, fists clenched so tightly that they were practically numb as she gnawed on her lower lip to prevent the torrent of profanities that were aching to burst forth. Jackson responded with one of his trademark smirks that only increased Lisa's ire, and with a low chuckle he gestured for her to enter.

"Well come on in Leese. You can tell me all about it once we hit the road."

Jackson's partner, whose name Lisa had yet to know, silently skulked past Jackson without the faintest hint of acknowledgment. With an audible huff, Lisa jutted her foot forwards, meaning to pass Jackson quickly like the man's precedent, but instead felt his hand clamp onto her wrist, pulling her backwards.

"Give me your purse." He commanded.

"What?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "I need to check your purse and get rid of anything unnecessary or dangerous. Knowing you, there might be a recorder or camera somewhere, and maybe even a weapon... no further explanation needed, Leese. Just hand it over."

Reluctantly, Lisa slowly handed him her bag, only to have it snapped away with his spidery fingers.

"You're welcome." Lisa said tartly, ignoring the snicker of Jackson's nameless partner in the background. Jackson merely walked past her towards the vacant living room, and with the slightest trace of amusement, he carelessly poured out the contents of Lisa's purse into the glass coffee table.

"Careful!" Lisa warning was thoroughly ignored as he fanned out all of her small objects and trinkets across the glass surface, his aura once more strictly business as he fumbled through her wallet, examining credit cards. Satisfied, his hands picked up a square envelope that contained a disk.

"Those are the files," Lisa explained. "I did better than you expect; got the records of everyone who has stayed in the past year, plus whatever upcoming schedules that are in file."

"Why, thank you." His voice was unappreciative as he placed the disk onto the side of the table.

"Oh no, Jackson. _Thank you_, because I really appreciate what you did for me earlier." Lisa's tone became a few notes lower than usual as she hovered behind him.

Jackson looked up at her, eyes narrowed warily at the inevitable storm that was brewing in her rigid face.

"I mean, it was really thoughtful for you to get me a new wardrobe without telling me. I was so eager to just abandon all of my belongings before we got this show on the road, you know? I just _love _surprises."

Jackson's upper lip twitched in annoyance. "Let's drop the sarcasm and keep the focus at hand, alright?"

"You're treating me like a hostage, Jackson. I thought you said we were partners."

Jackson smiled, infuriating her even more by adding a condescending coo. "Oh Leese, get a clue. Asides from your brief knowledge of the situation, you don't know what the hell is going on or what needs to be done. Until I'm assured that you're game in this whole fiasco, you need to simply do whatever I say. So for now, we are not partners."

"But you said-!" Her fists instinctively clenched.

"Work your way up Leese, that's the nature of this business. I didn't get where I am by whining."

"Great," Lisa plopped herself on the black leather love seat, her face prickling with the blood still pooling towards her cheeks from fury. "So what am I, your pupil in governmental conspiracy?"

"Something like that," Jackson's voice seemed distracted, and he quickly jerked open a thick yellow envelope, fishing through and exposing the glossy surfaces of a stack of photographs. He looked through the first few before plopping them harshly onto the table, causing them to scatter amidst a few of her cosmetics.

"We can't have these." His voice was curt; an obvious order.

"Yes we can," Lisa instantly protested, leaning forwards, nearly falling off the seat.

Jackson inflicted the full force of his cold glare. "You know if you happen to be careless or drop one of these..."

"You already got rid of all my other stuff, Jackson All I have left is everything in this purse." Feeling hot tears brim the corners of her eyes, she jerked her gaze to focus at the noise of clattering glass behind her- Jackson's partner was making a cocktail in the kitchenette, far more interested in getting a green olive out of a jar than their audible quarrel.

Only looking back after a minute of silence, Lisa found Jackson's face still set in stone, but slowly he gathered and nestled the photographs back into the envelope. Not commenting as he placed them onto the table, he simply gazed at the pallid wall in front of him, his eyes flickering towards Lisa every now and then. An obvious debate was warring inside his head, and the way his eyebrows were furrowing, Lisa took her chance.

"Please," She pressed, hoping to take advantage of his moment of uncertainty. "I'll need them for sanity's sake. If you let me keep them, then maybe I won't complain about leaving my stuff behind."

Jackson's face lit up at the latter part of her words, and his eyes began to bore into hers with obvious calculation.

"Maybe?" His voice was unconvinced; he clearly wanted a compromise.

Lisa sighed in defeat. "Fine, I won't mention it again. I'll just use whatever clothes and things you got for me without a word."

Enjoying the sweet breeze of victory, Jackson's face gained back its arrogant animation. "I like that. Alright then, keep the pictures, lose the attitude. For the _entire_ duration of the trip. Personally I don't think that's even possible, what with the expected whining you'll spew, but what's important is this: Follow my orders and keep the sarcasm at bay. You up for that?"

Lisa grimaced as she looked into the nearby future, one with Jackson seated on a giant pedestal, relentless with his usual scathing remarks as she remained furiously but silent on the ground, consumed under his shadow of authority.

"...alright Jackson, but only if you cut down on your own attitude. Might make the trip easier for the both of us."

Jackson shook his head slightly, lips pressed together to suppress an eager smirk. "But Leese, you can't change a man over night. Why ask that when you know I'll just slip up?"

"So _I_ have to be the only one taking all the bullshit?"

"For the pictures' sake, well, yes."

Speechless, Lisa took to pacing about the room, muttering unintelligible things to herself, occasionally glancing at Jackson with murderous eyes, even though his attention was again preoccupied with sorting through her belongings.

"So what's going to happen to my car?" She murmured as he finally started placing her things back into the purse.

Jackson tilted his head towards the kitchenette. "Jasper will be taking care of that."

Lisa, finally able to put a label onto the hazel-eyed beauty, spun to look at him.

"Ah, so he has a name." Her voice was slightly curt.

Jasper regarded her with dark amusement before answering with his unjustly suave voice. "I have several names Ms. Reisert, but for now it's best kept as Jasper. And might I add Ms. Reisert, that you are misinterpreting your luck on this operation. You should be thankful."

Lisa guffawed. "Ah yes, I'm a very lucky woman to be going through all this. Apparently it's no big deal if I get kidnapped and possibly killed, right? I really hit the jackpot on life..."

Entering the living room and leaving his drink abandoned on the counter, he leaned casually against the far left wall, overlooking Jackson briefly before inhaling deeply. Taking his glasses off, he starting wiping them with his shirt's sleeve as he spoke.

"It's quite brave how you are able to talk with such disrespect to Mr. Rippner. If you were to speak that way to me, or to anyone else in our business for that matter, you would not be in any condition to stand. You think you have it rough now Ms. Reisert, but I assure you it could have been far worse. Instead of giving you an informed choice in this operation like Jackson did, someone could have kidnapped you, beaten you until submission, and all in all, kill you once you no longer served a purpose. That was the _original_ plan, one that _I _was going to initiate, and believe me, there wouldn't have been any compromises over petty things like photographs. Lucky for you, Jackson stepped in, and with all his charisma and reasonings to our superiors, he was able to give you this alternative."

Putting his glasses back on, his eyes narrowed as his gaze flickered on Jackson, who sat motionless, listening.

"It surprises me, Jackson's tolerance towards you Ms. Reisert," Jasper stepped behind her, kneeling down to meet her eye level. "He wasn't known for being so cordial to his targets before."

Lisa, stunned at the sudden knowledge laid before her and frustrated when Jasper used the term 'cordial' so casually, allowed her mind to spew the hysterical babble that was foaming inside her head. "He wasn't very _cordial _when he hunted me down to kill me in my fathers house. He wasn't _cordial_ at all when he pushed me down a flight of stairs, or when he was about to stab me..."

"Why don't I have a say in this little debate," Jackson interrupted, standing up to face them, hands tucked neatly into his pockets. "I'm doing my job. Last job that included Lisa should have ended with her termination. This job requires that I keep her intact. Everything I do is according to what I am told to do. It's all laid out in a very precise memo."

Jasper seemed far from satisfied with Jackson's calm response. "Here's a question I've been wondering for awhile: You developed this intricate plan to preserve Ms. Reisert because...?"

"Because the plan I have is a hell of a lot better than your original plan Jasper. It's called being inventive."

Jasper chuckled darkly to himself, rising up, releasing Lisa from his close proximity. "Last time you tried to be inventive Jackson, you ended up with a pen in your jugular. I wouldn't be too confident about this project."

Jackson didn't miss a beat. "I beg to differ Jasper, but I guess we will have to wait and see, won't we?"

"I will be surprised if you prove me wrong Rippner. Some of my pals have a bet going on, and I placed my money on your old company... nothing personal Jackson, it's just those dirty bastards are relentless."

"Wow, aren't we popular Leese?" Jackson glanced at the love seat, finding Lisa wordless, eyebrows furrowed, obviously preoccupied with her own thoughts. Sighing, he checked his watch and cursed.

"... and if we don't hurry up we might as well let those dirty bastards pay us a visit... Purse is all yours Leese, just give Jasper the key to your car."

Lisa, snapping out of her brief moment of catalepsy, merely nodded and gently handed Jasper her keys.

"My car is going to be fine, right?" She asked cautiously, hoping her words didn't tug at Jasper's nerves. His little speech had obviously left an impression, one of fear and apprehension.

"Yes, I'll keep it safe for the meantime. That's the last thing you need to worry about though, Ms. Reisert."

"Yeah..." She replied softly, grabbing her purse and stood awkwardly against the wall, watching Jackson scramble across the living room, turning the lights off.

"Wait here Leese... need to wrap up a few things on my computer in the back," Jackson snapped the disk from the table and briskly walked across the room towards the narrow hallway perpendicular to the kitchenette. "Keep an eye on her Jasper."

"Gladly," Jasper turned swiftly to face Lisa, and had resumed back to his detached, empty stare, causing his hazel orbs to lose their allure. Despite this, Lisa, unable to contain the curiosity that was tugging at her, treaded the land mine.

"You mean that you were suppose to..?" She trailed off suggestively.

"Yes."

"But he came in and..."

"Developed something appealing enough for our bosses to fund. I'm not sure what goes on in his head, and it confounds us all, really. But apparently he has some plans for you, because all I know is that once this project is over, we reap in a great revenue. You are apparently the key to a large sum of money, if all goes right."

"How?"

"Don't ask me. I haven't a clue myself."

"So it's all strictly business related?" Lisa said, feeling unusually dejected at the thought; undoubtfully the value of life was undermined by the power of money. Ah, but what was she to expect with these people?

"Yes, he's all about business. What else would it be about?" His own voice had turned suggestive, and feeling awkward, Lisa looked down at her shoes, allowing the disappointment to sink in.

"Done. Ready to hit the road Leese?" Jackson's face was alert as he returned, all amusement swiped clean from his face despite his cheery tone as he reappeared into the living room with a pair of car keys in his hand.

"You know it." Lisa responded, a little relieved as Jasper released her from his bold glare and walked towards the entrance, opening the door and peering out cautiously before nodding his head towards Jackson.

Lisa's feet moved mechanically as she trudged behind Jackson, guilt and regret bubbling from within, the future's outlook nothing but a dreary blur. What was she to expect? Could she, and would she, come out of this alive? She was in this path of no return though, and as she examined Jackson's profile as he kept turning his head to watch his surroundings, she wondered if he would protect her. Even if it was typed in a memo or stated on a strict briefing, would he keep his end of the deal? Or, her worst fear, was this all a trick?

Before she knew it, Lisa found herself in a parking garage located at what she assumed to be the center of the whole complex. Despite the lack of people around, the parking lot boasted an array of cars, most of them luxury sedans and shiny, well-kept sport cars. Jackson and Jasper were silent, eyes intent on anything that happened to move within their perimeters, every now and then glancing behind to make sure Lisa was still following.

They finally stopped in front of a black Chrysler sedan, and Jackson, sniffing distastefully, motioned Lisa towards the back seats.

"Why can't I sit up front?" Lisa asked, a bit offended.

"Because that's where I keep all of my equipment. Just get in, it's not like you have to sit in a child's booster seat."

Disgruntled but weary of dueling, she simply leaped into the sedan and closed the door behind her.

"You have the number of the safe house, I presume?" Jackson asked Jasper as he opened the trunk of the sedan, tossing in a suitcase and a white box stuffed with papers.

"Yes. All is set. Good luck on your mission Jackson, but here's a little advice after observing your childish quarrels: You don't fight fire with fire with a woman Jackson, not if you want to get your point across."

Jackson exhaled sharply. "Yes, thanks for that little bit of philosophical advice. Any other ballads you want to recite to me? Maybe a sonnet?"

"I'm serious Jackson, you can't let this get out of line with your bickering. Don't take my career down with yours just because you've gone soft."

Jackson flinched at the words, thoroughly insulted."I haven't gone soft Jasper. I just know this target well, therefore I don't have to resort to your methods of submission. Going soft means letting the emotions get the better of you, and if that was the case, then little Ms. Reisert wouldn't be in mint condition, would she?"

Jasper ignored his question. "If this gets out of hand I'd rather you terminate her."

"Oh, I will."

"Alright then. Good luck and don't fuck it up."

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Alright then... a bit lengthier than the other chapters, but I just love writing the conversations between these people. Sorry for the lack of updates; I'll try better next time. College is a bit more than I expected, tehehe...

...REVIEW IF YOU THINK JACKSON IS THE SHIIIIZ!


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